The Assassin's Keeper
by Rozak
Summary: When a storm brews in Noxus, washing away the line between friend and foe, an otherwise impossible relationship spawns in it's wake. [Rated M for language, descriptive violence and lemons. If everyone would be so kind, please read Chapter 15 for an update on why I haven't been able to write as often lately.]
1. The Keeper

[Note from the author: This will be an ongoing series for a little while until I feel satisfied with wrapping it up. This story takes place well before Jarvan's capture at the hands of Jericho Swain, although he still retain his sour opinion of him. That being said, Katarina's father (Marcus) is yet to disappear as well.]

Dusk had just fallen on Demacia, covering the land in the dark of night and sending honest souls into their homes. A warm breeze wafted through the countryside, carrying with it the aroma of grass and flowers, the series of scents that the spring had gifted to Demacia. Flowers bloomed in the fields, farmer's crops sprung from their rows, but remained somber, waiting for the light of day to wash away their sorrow and usher in another period of growth.

All was quiet that night, that was until a lone figure, garbed in a hooded cloak, seated upon a swayback horse, both appearing to be rather ragged as they galloped hard through the Demacian countryside, determined to reach their destination. There wasn't much in their direction, in the way of residences that is. There was not much of interest besides plantations and small farmhouses. However, there was something of particular interest to somebody with such a shady demeanor. All but one of the grand estates of the noble houses were set within the walls of the white city, that one stray house was that of Lightshield. That particular noble, rather, royal house resided in the countryside on a small estate constructed by the Crown Prince, Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth. And his home lay directly in this cloaked man's path.

It took the mysterious man a solid twenty, thirty or so minutes to reach his destination. The Lightshield estate. The estate itself was rather lightly fortified, a tall wall and a single gatekeeper tending the perimeter. The man took a position on a hill just off the side of the home to get a thorough scan of the land before he set off on his mission – to infiltrate the estate and deliver a certain... something.

Perhaps it would be inappropriate to call the Lightshield estate an estate. It was more or less a two-story home, rather humble, with a protruding room on the second floor that housed a collection of weapons and armor sets. Outside of that was a small garden – a sanctuary of sorts. It lay on the south side of the estate. Even though the man who viewed the estate from afar had a task, he was captivated by the beauty of the floral sanctuary. It was tended by Prince Jarvan himself in his free time, it was his place to channel all the unneeded, unwanted emotions that came with his duties; it kept him of sound mind. In the very center of the sanctuary was what appeared to be a white-painted gazebo with a shingle roof, a man garbed in a white denim uniform standing in it, staring off into the distance.

He looked rather official to the observer, and quickly determined that was his target. Even if it wasn't his target, he could have disposed of him with ease. He checked to make sure his horse was properly tied to a tree, and off he went down the hill with a quick bound. Normally, a man exerting such haste would have their footsteps be loud, impossible to ignore, but this man was like a snake in tall grass. Silent, stealthy, deadly.

Under the veil of night, the peculiar figure skulked, keeping a firm pace for a good five minutes before reaching the only wall keeping him from his target. Luckily for him, the partition he was in front of was rather old and poorly constructed. Some bricks were protruding from the others, giving him ample support to scale it without the chance of falling and blowing his cover.

With a sigh, up he went, grasping the lowest brick and heaving himself upwards, setting his foot on the next and taking a deep breath. His heart had begun to beat at an increased pace, knowing that this if this mission were to be a failure, lives would surely be lost. One of those lives including his own, and his master. One brick at a time, the skulker scaled the wall, nearly slipping a few times as the low light prohibited his ability to see well, but finally made it to the crest.

He steadied his breathing, crouching and reaching to his belt for one of two lengths of rope. He struggled for a moment, but got one loose and prepared the length for use. Upon tying one end to one of the battlements, he dropped the slack over and watched as it made an unceremonious landing inside the estate. One final breath, the man took, pulling on a pair of leather gloves that were on an inner pocket of his cloak. Pulling his hood over his head, he gripped the rope with both hands and stepped off of the battlements. He struggled, trying to slow his descent down the rope, afraid the noise would alert the figure he assumed was he target, but did finally reach his destination at the bottom of the wall.

He angled his head low, reaching to his right inner pocket of his cloak and kept his hand there. His back would then rise, keeping his head low and hand in position at his inner pocket, beginning to make his way to the sanctuary where he would complete his mission. Pace steady and firm, he made his way through the floral refuge, soon approaching the center and thus the gazebo. His target faced away from him, which normally would have been good for the cloaked man, but in this case it was quite the opposite. His pace slowed as he neared the steps leading up to the gazebo, looking up, finally identifying the target. Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth, as he presumed.

"Prince Jarvan." The man said in a sneering tone, his voice piercing the silence around them as he did so. It was rather low and grizzly, one that sounded familiar to the prince as it crashed on his unprepared ears.

His words seemed to startle the prince, who was in the middle of dragging from his pipe and mulling some of the information he'd been sent earlier that day. Jarvan nearly dropped it as his body jumped upon hearing the voice behind him. He, however, refrained from doing so and turned to inspect this new voice behind him. His eyes narrowed, seeing that the voice originated by a hooded, cloaked figure.

"What is your business here?" He asked, turning his body to face this mysterious man. The arm that was dropped at his side began to creep around to a blade that was hidden beneath his white coat. He was prepared for whatever this cloaked bastard was going to bring his way, it was just the thought of a fight that had begun pumping adrenaline through his veins. He gripped the hilt of the short blade, preparing to pull it at a second's notice. "... If you've come here to fight, I'd ask that you respect the sanctity of this place. I'd rather your corpse not be found in my sanctuary."

However, it wasn't a fight that the hooded man was here to deliver to the prince. The man stepped forward, a boot landing on the lowermost of the gazebo's steps, pulling forth a white envelope from his pocket. This particular envelope was bearing a red wax seal, detailed with the initials of House Du Couteau's patriarch. Jarvan spied the seal, but couldn't quite make it out from the distance he stood, but felt somewhat relieved, yet still prepared to fight.

"I bear a message." The hooded man interrupted Jarvan before he could start to insult, putting his hand out to present the envelope to the still suspicious prince.

Jarvan raised an eyebrow, seeing that despite the man's curious demeanor, he wasn't here to fight. He took a few steps forward and released the hilt of his blade, jerking the envelope from between the fingers of the hooded man. His eyes widened ever so slightly upon identifying the seal as that of House Du Couteau.

_'Why would these Noxians bother to contact me? A normal letter would have sufficed. No need for a shady messenger... Although, I'm sure my eyes wouldn't be the only ones to see it before it reached me...' _Jarvan mused, staring blankly at the envelope. He looked up, seeing that the hooded man had vanished before his eyes, not before catching the glimpse of what appeared to be a retracted blade that was attached in-line with his arm. Jarvan nearly lunged forward to grab him, but decided against it. He was simply too quick, anyway. And that blade was all too familiar, easily identifying the infiltrator as Talon Du Couteau, the lapdog of the family. Jarvan released a heavy sigh, clenching the tip of his pipe in between his teeth and peeling of the wax seal, sitting down on a bench located in the center of the gazebo, drawing the folded piece of paper. As he unfolded the paper, biting down on his pipe harder and holding the paper in the moonlight to read whatever was written on the letter.

_Honorable Prince Jarvan IV,_

_Before you tear this paper to shreds and throw it into your furnace, hear me out. Something is brewing within Noxus. The Black Rose has resurfaced and begun plotting against me, and I have caught wind of it. They are scheming to do away with me – as well as my daughters. I can't have that happen. Cassiopeia will be fine, she'll be able to get out on her own with few issues for the time being, but Katarina I fear for the most. She's my daughter, I love her very much, but she's far too much of a hothead to talk her way out of a situation with the Black Rose, or fight for that matter._

_Why should I care, you may think, another enemy out of my way. I'll tell you why you should care, Prince. You can go to sleep tonight and rest on the idea that I can have you killed with relative ease. That being said, you have two days to hand a letter off to my couriers in Demacia. They are an underground association, so if your overbearing morality will permit you to do so, go to them when you have finished your reply. They are located a block down from the only blacksmith in the lower-class district – I'm confident you know of them. Ask for Redrick. If I do not receive a reply explicitly stating that you agree in five days, you will be killed, no exceptions. If you do not receive a reply from me in a week, I have been killed._

_You have three weeks upon my receiving of your reply to prepare yourself, and your home, for Katarina. Don't expect her to come easily. You will be updated by Talon on the situation as it develops. He will come in intervals of two to three days to deliver my replies, and will do so then._

_Good luck and godspeed._

_- Marcus Du Couteau_

Jarvan sighed, folding the letter and placing it in it's envelope. _'Well this great.'_ he thought,_ 'I could just say no... but if I don't agree, I'm certainly going to be found in a pool of my own blood when the deadline is broken.'_ He continued mulling over the letter, his mind beginning to reel and heart beat like a drum. The prince knew of the capabilities of the Couteau family, seeing as Talon had just scaled the perimeter wall of his home and scared him senseless. This was a quandary of epic proportions, but he had no other choice. He was going to have to welcome Katarina Du Couteau into his home and be her keeper.

Jarvan folded the letter, packing it back into it's envelope and tossing it to his side on the bench. He raised a hand to hold the end of his pipe, the other combing through his hair as he pulled his pipe from his mouth. A slow exhale and the puff of smoke that masked his breath emerging from his mouth. He grit his teeth and stared off into the night, knowing his life just got a hell of a lot more interesting than he had intended for it to.

* * *

The following day...

Jarvan did as he was instructed, writing a letter of reply that explicitly stated he would heed the order of the Couteau patriarch. He delivered it to the shady couriers in the lower class district of Demacia and returned to his home. The next few days would be filled with a grueling period of waiting, but lo and behold, as was it was written by Marcus, Talon appeared to deliver a new letter. This also meant that Marcus was alive, for the time being. As they came, each letter held new information on the situation in Noxus; the inner circles that is. Information that had existed and flown completely under the radar to Demacian spies. Marcus disclosed rather critical information that Jarvan might have passed on had he been a man of lower morality. Things such as the names and ranks of those he believed were manufacturing this ploy, as well as the current locations of all Noxian military entities. Jarvan may not have been a man of low morality, but he was not a fool, and did take note of all this information that was so willingly exposed by the Noxian man he was in connivance with.

* * *

Summary of the following weeks... [Author's note: I found it pointless to create different chapters for these next few weeks. This could be interpreted as me being a lazy cow (You wouldn't be totally wrong) but I wanted to cut into the meat of the story as quickly as I could. The last thing I want to do is bore you all.]

Over two of the three weeks that Jarvan had been allotted by Marcus Du Couteau, he would have re-purposed a utility room into a bedroom on the second floor, opposite to his own quarters. It was large enough to fit a queen sized bed, a dresser with mirror combo, a wardrobe, and a hook in the ceiling for an oil lamp to be hung. However, on the other side of things, the windows were barred and there was a lock on the door to which only Jarvan had the key to. This was for both of their safety, as he was sure that Katarina would be very displeased with Jarvan when she was inevitably thrown into a room, the door locking behind her.

Jarvan was a generous, wealthy man, often giving to the poor and needs of lower-class Demacia. It wasn't to make himself look better, he was already a rather ravishing man, it was because he genuinely hated to see people in general suffer. That's why he chose to agree with Marcus on his deal after further thought. He could easily see that Marcus was sending him this message as a father, not as a Noxian. A father who loved his daughters more than anything in the world and would do anything to protect them, even if that meant throwing them into an unfamiliar environment for their own good.

As to how Katarina would find her way to the Prince's doorstep, she was being sent to Jarvan under the guise of a "trade" between the two peoples. Katarina for Luxanna Crownguard. A fair "trade" to settle a land dispute in the north. That being said, Katarina would have been marked as a prisoner in both state's records. However, to elaborate on the trade aspect of the deal, it wasn't much a trade at all. More so, Katarina was being delivered to her new keeper in chains, as she wouldn't have come peacefully otherwise. Luxanna would never be sent to Noxus, as Couteau loyalists awaited to kill off the crews sent to retrieve her before they ever reached the Demacian border.

Now, for that one final arduous week before Jarvan would expect Katarina's arrival, he'd have to further prepare himself mentally, knowing that this would potentially be the most challenging mental task of his existence.

The stage is set, and the show is soon to begin.


	2. The Assassin

It was the last day of the final week. The day Jarvan's new guest was set to arrive. The air wafted over Jarvan's estate, the one servant he had employed, a gatekeeper, standing at his side as he anxiously stared down the dirt path from which a transport rode down. The wooden carriage made it's way down the road, destined for the prince's home. He swallowed hard and continued staring, wishing he could just return to his work and settle this ordeal.

Over the past weeks, he'd kept in extremely close contact with her father, Marcus Du Couteau, trying to get as much information out of him as he could afford to. Admittedly, Marcus was very resistant to disclose anything more than he needed to, but was able to get little tidbits of helpful information from him. Things like what he's told Katarina, which was literally nothing, and what would become of her when everything pans out... or Marcus disappears.

The exhausted crown prince let loose a tired sigh as the transport came to a stop at his gates, the crew lumbering out and pulling the tarp off of the cargo. It was a large cage, the bars constructed of metal, the rest being wooden. Inside of this cage, something began to stir. Katarina's distinct red hair would rise to contrast against the distant sun.

Her vision was blurry, hair a mess, and clothes dirty as she attempted to recall the last day. She remembered being called by her father to speak with him, but when she entered the room, he was not there. However, there was a small mixing pot with some precarious frothing liquid in it sitting on top of his desk. She sniffed, attempting to identify the liquid by scent, and before she knew it, she was unconscious on the floor.

And here she was now. She had been handed off by Du Couteau loyalists. They were escorted to the border by that same band of loyalists responsible for her capture, handed over to the Demacians, and had since then traveled to Jarvan's estate aboard this prisoner transport.

Katarina blinked, her mind trying to take in her unfamiliar surroundings, but quickly shut her eyes and held her forehead. A pounding pain resonated in her forehead, a side effect of the noxious chemicals she had inhaled moments prior to her capture. As her mind was sent reeling as she looked around, quickly realizing that the countryside was unlike that of Noxus. _'I'm not in Noxus... what? Why would I be anywhere else?' _She thought, her head continuing to jerk back and forth as she frantically searched for a familiar sight. And then, she beheld the Prince who was approaching the cage she was contained in, his arms crossed and face expressionless.

Katarina scowled, baring her teeth and darting towards the bars, grabbing them and gripping with force comparable to that of a Dragon. "Princeling...! What are you doing here?! Why am I here?!" She hissed, her sight beginning to shake as she stared at the Prince. This whole situation had sent her blood boiling, and there was no way for her to hide it any longer. "Release me, you imbeciles! My father will have your heads!" She continued, ranting as she jerked on the bars desperately, to no avail.

Jarvan did not gratify her with a response at all, taking the key to her cell from the transport driver. The prince rounded the carriage to the door of the cage, fitting the key inside of the lock and turning it hastily. Jarvan genuinely just wanted to return to his home and carry on with his business, not have to deal with the Katarina's presence at all. However, he was a man of his word, and he promised Marcus that he would guard Katarina until things panned out in Noxus. That was, assuming things went how they wanted them to go.

Katarina nearly jumped from her spot at the edge of the container, to wrap her hands around Jarvan's neck when the door would open and wring him out for putting her in this position, but found herself unable to; she was bound in heavy chains. Jarvan stepped up and into her cell, taking up the chain that bound her hands together. He knelt down, maintaining his expressionless face and said, "I will explain everything. Calm yourself, I will take you inside and up to your room. I will give you my explanation there." He said in a low tone, his eyes darting over to the two transport operators who were now conversing as they tended their horses before leaving.

"_I will explain everything" _Those words echoed in Katarina's mind for a few seconds, those couple of seconds feeling utterly like hours. _'What could this damned prince have to explain? Is there something going on I don't know about? That's absurd, I'm kept in the loop by my father, sister, and Talon... surely this wasn't their doing, it must have been Swain...'_ Katarina thought to herself, narrowing her eyes at the prince as he knelt before her, gripping the chains that bound her hands and ankles.

Katarina, overcome with confusion, strife and genuine curiosity as to what Jarvan needed to explain, nodded to confirm her cooperation, but kept her threatening gaze and scowl. She grit her teeth as the prince pushed himself to his feet, grabbing her chains and jumping down from inside of Katarina's cage. He turned back and offered her a hand, tugging lightly on her chains to egg her on. She did not accept his help, instead jumping down and hissing at him once more.

Jarvan swallowed, but held his composure as he tuned his head to face the transport managers. "You're dismissed. I wish you a good day." The prince said, finally cracking a smile as he jerked his eyes around to Katarina. _"Follow. Quickly, closely." _He murmured, starting off towards the open gates of his home with a steady bound. He wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to whether or not Katarina was following him, but there was slack in the chain that he held, indicating she was doing as ordered.

Moments later, as they traversed his courtyard and entered his home, he turned to Katarina and began unlocking her bindings, allowing them to fall to the floor. He deposited the key in his pocket and looking up to Katarina, seeing her inspect his foyer with relative interest.

The room they stood within, the foyer, was rather extravagant. The walls were lined with framed commendations given to him during his innumerable campaigns against Noxus. Along with that were the weapons used by his foes that had met their end at his hand. Along with that were numerous landscape paintings of Demacia. The city, the forestry of the borderlands and the calm plains of the countryside. Katarina bit her tongue, waiting for Jarvan to free her from her bondage. To her own surprise, she was timid, for the most part. She wasn't cursing or wishing death on the prince, _yet._

As the cuffs on her ankles and wrists fell to the floor with a clank, she narrowed her eyes at the prince and pursed her lips. "Now, you idiot, why the fuck am I here? Did you order them to abduct me, huh? You aren't man enough to come get me yourself? Idiotic prince!" Katarina yelled at Jarvan, looking up and into his eyes. Much to Jarvan's surprise, and delight, she did not rear a fist back to strike him, as she still desired the answers he had promised her. However, in her angered state, getting those would be rather difficult.

"You know what? Forget it! I don't want to hear your stupid explanation! It's clear that if you were dumb enough to order my capture, you're not smart enough to explain why you've done this!" Katarina cut him off before Jarvan could begin explaining the situation.

"My father will have your head on a pike!" She screeched, baring her teeth and growling at the prince.

"No! Not him, I'll kill you myself!" The enraged assassin continued.

"You moronic Demacian, capturing me was the worst thing you've ever even considered doing!" Katarina egged Jarvan on. His blood had begun to boil, much like Katarina's had been since she regained consciousness.

"Kat-..." Jarvan murmured, swallowing hard and gritting his teeth, trying to cope with the rantings of the Noxian.

"Shut the hell up! Don't even utter my name, you imbecilic prince!"

"KATARINA!" Jarvan screamed to break her spree of ranting. He then lashed out, grabbing Katarina's wrist and squeezing it. "Will you calm yourself for just a moment and allow me to explain this to you?"

Katarina jumped as Jarvan quickly took a hold of her hand, but still did not retaliate. She was in a weakened state, having lost most of her energy thanks to a lack of nourishment and hydration. Obviously no match for the prince, and the last thing she'd want to deal with while locked away in this hell was an injury. She cringed in pain, feeling his grip constrict her, gritting her teeth and pushing him away. "I'll listen to what you have to say..." She whispered, averting her eyes to the floor and gritting her teeth in attempt to soothe her rage.

Jarvan scoffed, thinking what Katarina said was a lie. Still with a grip on Katarina's wrist, he began dragging her up the staircase to lock her away in the room he had prepared. Katarina kicked at him for a moment, murmuring some curses before giving in to him, allowing herself to be dragged up the set of stairs to the second floor of the Prince's home. As they rounded the left corner, he pulled Katarina in front of him and shoved her into the room.

Just as quickly as Katarina had begun to cooperate, she began rebelling, turning back to him after she stumbled to recover from Jarvan's overly aggressive push. However, before she could jump at the prince and wring his neck, lost in her own strife, the door had closed. Jarvan then drew the key made specifically for this door, and was unique from the others that were kept by his gatekeeper. Quickly fitting it into the lock, he turned it to the right and threw the lock over to keep her in the room.

As the sound of the lock throwing stunned Katarina, her eyes shooting open and expression changed to nothing but surprise, Katarina's raving stopped. She completely ignored the rather extravagantly fitted room and shot to the door, balling her hands and beginning to hit the wooden door with all her might. "No! No! You can't do this! You can't keep me here!" Katarina cried, her tone distressed and despairing.

Jarvan stood outside the door, doing his best to forget that she was even there, but failed in doing so. He had his concerns, but also a question. Why had she developed this tone so quickly? It didn't seem like it was in her character to even be able to have such a somber tone, at least to Jarvan.

The truth was, Katarina had a fear, as farfetched as that may sound. She was afraid of being alone. And in this very situation, she was nothing but alone. Alone. Set up be her own father and sent to a rival land for her own safety without her knowledge. Her mind began to race, having never been truly alone in her entire life. Tears grew in her eyes, her own fear overcoming her faster than rage did, turning her back to the door, sliding to the floor and hugging her legs.

_'Oh gods... I have to stay in this room, in this home, with a man who hates me and everything I believe in. Miles away from those I love and those who love me. Away from my family, my friends... I'm alone.' _She thought as she dug her nails into the leather pants she wore. This who situation had quickly worn her down, he greatest fear being realized and striking her. She closed her eyes, a tear running down and dropping onto her legs.

The walls seemed like they had begun to close in on her, and there wasn't a thing for her to do about it. So she began to cry – cry as loudly as she could, hoping that somehow it would change the situation for her. Katarina even surprised herself at how hard she had begun to cry. She'd never been the type to cry openly, or at all even. But in this situation, it was all she could think to do. Not search for a way to get out, or a weapon to fight with, just cry. Not only had she been exposed to her greatest fear, she was also hundreds upon hundreds of miles away from relative safety from the Demacians, although she was in no danger.

Jarvan, who stood just outside of Katarina's door, clenching the key that held the two of them apart, heard the struggle within as the Noxian's emotions ran rampant. He'd jumped back every so slightly as he heard her fist crashing against the door, but had eased himself closer as he heard her begin to whimper, and then bawl uncontrollably. His eyes averted from the door, staring at the fine wooden floorboards as he tried to zone out Katarina's desperate cries. However, he simply couldn't.

Jarvan wasn't the kind of man to listen to somebody, a woman no less, weep with such despair in their cries. He didn't have the heart. He considered himself a man of the people, or at least it was his goal to become that. And it was due to this property that manifested so heavily in his mind that he decided he was obligated to comfort Katarina. After all, he was instructed by her father to show her the utmost attention and treat her like a queen, Marcus' words exactly.

The prince shook his head, fitting the key back into the lock and throwing it to the left to enable entry. The man then opened the door, kneeling down and setting a hand on Katarina's shoulder, who then had her face buried in her knees. "You can do anything you want but please, for my sake, don't cry." He said to her, adjusting himself behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

Katarina remained seated, not budging even as the prince embraced her from behind. Although she would never admit it to him, at least not right now, this new pair of arms that wrapped around her felt comforting, though they were both supposed to be enemies to the grave. She picked her head up, turning it to the side and laying it upon her knees as she hugged her legs even tighter. "W-why are you doing this? I... I'm a prisoner..." She murmured solemnly, sniffling and wiping a tear from her chin.

"You aren't a prisoner, Katarina. You've been sent here by your father to remain under my protection. I have given Marcus my word to protect and care for you, and I don't intend to go back on that." Jarvan said, rubbing Katarina's legs that were pressed against her bust as she sobbed. Just as soon as Jarvan had said that she was sent to be kept by the prince, she turned around to him, still on her knees and grabbed his shirt. However, she did not lash out at him, merely looked into his eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Now... please, Katarina, tell me why you're crying. I can't stand to see a woman of such grace cry without reason." He whispered, raising a hand to comb his fingers through her long, red hair.

Katarina released the grasp on his shirt, instead wrapping her arms around the Demacian prince and burying her face into his chest. Although she found it incredibly hard to believe that she was sent to Jarvan and was to be treated as one of the prince's own, she wasn't about to turn down this offer of consolation. Her fear of loneliness was far greater than the curiosity and anger she felt when in the foyer. She swallowed hard, sniffling and looking up to him. "I... I... I don't want to be alone..." The assassin manage to stutter out, surprised as the embrace the prince held on her tightened.

"If that is your wish, then you will not be lonely. You'll never be lonely while you're in this home, Katarina." Jarvan replied, moving his right hand to take a white cloth from his pocket and beginning to dry Katarina's tears. "Your father has instructed me to care for you as I would a queen, and I will not disrespect his desires by not doing so." The benevolent prince continued, attempting to comfort the shaken assassin. "Although we believe different things and follow different people, I believe we can both live comfortably if you'd cooperate."

Katarina shut her eyes, forcing out a few more belated tears as she was consoled with the warm, firm embrace of the Demacian prince. He was correct in his last statement. Though they were supposed to be enemies, here Jarvan was with his arms wrapped around Katarina who had tried to kill him many a time before. They both knew full well that their very touching in such a close manner could be considered betraying their people, but it seems as if neither of them cared.

As her fear subsided and eyes dried, Katarina looked up to Jarvan with a smile, her glimmering hazel eyes cutting through the relative darkness of her room. She planted a kiss upon the prince's cheek, conveying her thanks to him rather clearly as she pushed herself to her feet. She wiped some of her tears from her chin, those that were missed by Jarvan, and turned her back to him. "T-thank you..." Katarina stuttered out. "I'd like some time to think, if you would..." She asked, moving over to her rather plush bed and sitting down, looking to Jarvan who was still knelt upon the floor.

Jarvan nodded, standing himself up and looking out to the hallway. "Of course, this is your private space. Take all the time you require, I shall alert you when the evening meal is prepared." Jarvan said, taking his leave from the room and closing the door behind him. Of course, he locked the door back, believing that Katarina would escape otherwise.

After her little session of sobbing, and seeing now that the prince wasn't such a bad guy after all, Katarina had begun to see Jarvan in an entirely new light. No longer was the shadow of Noxus cast over her; she was now in Demacia. That meant, to her, that the overbearing morality of Noxians of her caliber was irrelevant. She was now free to think as she pleased without fear of oppression from her father, High Command, or Jericho Swain. However, these were only a few of the thoughts that twirled in the head of the Noxian girl.

_'Was Jarvan telling me the truth about being sent to him by father? What other reason would the prince have to treat me with such respect? And why else would he have room prepared if it wasn't meant for me...' _Katarina mused, setting her hands in her lap and looking around her new domain.

It was a rather extravagant room, all things considered. The bedding was plush and complete with everything she could have needed. Although, she was a bit adverse about the pattern of the quilt. It was well-knit, soft, even aromatic, and yet she couldn't take her eyes off of the Demacian icon in the very center of the comforter. Everything on the bed was color coded to fit Demacia's typical colors. This only furthered the idea that Katarina was in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar things and people. However, there was a man she knew rather well, and that was Jarvan. He might have been her ticket to getting back home, but that remained to be seen. She further indulged herself in this soft comforter by laying back and taking a deep breath, staring up to the ceiling.

This moment of silence and calmness would last but for a moment, pushing herself up from the bed and inspecting the rest of her room.

First and foremost came her wardrobe, which sat just to the left of the bed. It was just as well-crafted as everything else was. It had a fine, elegant look to it. It was crafted of stained mahogany with accents of gold painted on the edges, giving it a gilded look. Upon further inspection, it wasn't paint at all, it was genuine golden leafs that accented the dark wood. Katarina nodded, respecting Jarvan's attention to detail in the furniture. However, this was but one aspect that amazed her.

The assassin backed off and swung the double doors of the wardrobe open, her eyes widening in surprise. What was contained within the wardrobe was as fine as the wardrobe itself; surely just as expensive. A variety of clothing was hung before her. Long dresses, probably meant for official gatherings if she were to accompany him. Shorter dresses, sundresses most notably, for her to wear at her leisure around the home. An assortment of leisure clothing, loose, comfortable fleece insulated pants and a plain black shirt standing out the most to her. Katarina decided that if she were going to be in this room for a few more hours, she might as well be comfortable. She changed into the loose pants and black tunic and set her leather set of clothing inside of the wardrobe to be washed later.

The rest of the room hadn't quite stood out as much. There was her dresser-mirror combination adjacent to the foot of her bed. Within contained everything she'd need to stay aptly clothed beneath her everyday attire; undergarments and the like. To the left of that was a bookshelf, which was stocked with a collection of best-selling novellas to keep her entertained in the times that Jarvan wasn't present in the home, or when she was just bored.

As she completed her inspection, she looked out the window to see the sun was falling to the horizon, but had not yet completed it's descent. This indicated that Katarina had a bit of time to herself before Jarvan would come for her to eat dinner with him. Time for herself, and time for thinking.

She flopped down rather unceremoniously on her bed, adjusting her body to lay length-wise on the bed. A tired sigh escaped her lips, adjusting her head on the pillows and closing her eyes. This was a time of peace for the Noxian girl, peace that she had missed. She cleared her throat and began speaking into the air, "Mother, can you hear me? Now... of all times, I need your guidance." She murmured, piecing the quiet air of the room.

Katarina swallowed hard, having heard nothing in reply. "It's okay, mother. I know you're resting, I won't disturb you anymore after this." She took a deep breath, stifling a somber whimper.

"I'm confused... scared... and I haven't a clue of what to do. I'm locked away in this room, and the prince tells me that father has sent me here to be safe. I-is that true? Would father really send me away to Demacia to be _safe?_" Katarina continued speaking to her sleeping mother. This was something she had done routinely, speaking to her mother.

Katarina continued to lay and wait for a response from her dearest mother, and yet none came. She blinked a few times and bit the inside of her cheek, a tear falling down from the corner of her eye as she banished her sorrow from within. She constantly remembered what the prince had told her – that she wouldn't be alone. Even though those she knew so well would have lynched her for finding comfort in the arms of a Demacian, a prince no less, but she was no longer around them. And besides that, the embrace of Prince Jarvan warmed her cold heart... made her feel as if she was truly welcomed. The comfort he had so readily provided to her, the feeling of his body against hers and his deep, robust voice whispering calming phrases into her ears... it all began to feel _right. _Perhaps her time here wasn't going to be the hell she had first thought it would be.

Katarina's eyelids grew heavy as her body relaxed upon her new bed, finding comfort in the silence of the room. She allowed herself to drift away on the waves of slumber, hoping that this rest would help her clear her mind and settle these quandaries.

Was all of this right?

It didn't matter, because it all certainly felt right to her.


	3. Nightmare

**WARNING: VIOLENCE AHEAD - IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT, THERE WILL BE A SUMMARY IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.**

* * *

Darkness encroached Katarina's vision as the quiet air of the room she was locked within as sleep crept upon her. The quiet was her lullaby, one she was quite used to hearing. It was as sweet as her mother's voice, a voice she had not heard in what felt like tens of thousands of years.

Back, before her abrupt disappearance, Katherine Du Couteau could have been considered the mother to topple all other mothers. She'd do anything to keep her family safe, and that would prove to be her downfall.

Both Katherine and her husband, Marcus, were very suspicious of the mysterious man, Jericho Swain when he quickly made his way to the positions he sat in at the current time. Katherine was the first to begin investigating their pasts, digging deep into every archive and literal resource at their disposal. To no avail. But she didn't stop. She kept searching, and searching, and searching, knowing that he just wasn't... _right._

Quickly, what was meant to be a little investigation out of curiosity became a full-blown obsession. When she wasn't with her family, Katherine was locked away in her husband's study, pouring over dozens of books a day, some even twice, trying to find even a sliver of information on Swain. And yet, nothing.

Slowly, Katherine was losing grip on her sanity. She very rarely left her husband's study, even to eat and attend to her person hygiene. While she continued this digging, she dug just a bit too deep. A piece of paper containing incriminating evidence that would destroy Swain's image is all it took to get an inch too deep.

Katherine burst from the study, her hair a mess and clothes dirty, seeking out her husband and showing him the paper. They were both enthralled, finally having evidence, but Marcus wasn't nearly as devoted to the cause as his wife was. However, a handmaiden of Katherine's that was a Black Rose agent overheard this. The handmaiden disappeared shortly after hearing what she did to report the news. And just as quickly as she finished reporting it, she was issued an order. An order to make Katherine disappear, and disappear she would.

Gradually, an image came to face Katarina's unconscious mind. It was the all-too-vivid image of the moment she watched her mother perish.

* * *

It was just after noon, Katarina, her sister Cassiopeia and their mother Katherine were taking a walk in their courtyard just after their midday meal. All was quiet, that was, until the sound of a blade escaping it's scabbard could be heard in the distance as the gap between Katherine and the Black Rose-affiliated handmaiden made her advance on the Couteau matriarch.

The few seconds that it took felt like hours to Katherine as she turned to investigate the sound of heels against the cobblestone-paved walkway. Her eyes opened in horror as the glint of the dagger she held in her right hand entered her view. And just like that, her time on Runeterra ended.

The young Katarina stood awestruck as her mother's body fell lifelessly to the ground, a tide of crimson falling just behind her. She then lay upon her back, blood running from the corner of her mouth and soaking the white cloth of her dress. Cassiopeia, her younger sister, had hugged her arm and began crying the moment she had seen what happened. Katarina, however, froze in place, her unprepared mind incapable of processing the scene.

What she saw was something she'd forgotten long ago, but now had returned to her. The sight of the handmaiden in her uniform, a very intricately designed dagger shining in the light with a tint of red to it. The woman looked down on Katherine's dying body, biting the inside of her cheek and licking her teeth. She chuckled a low but maniacal chuckle, crouching and wiping away the blood that soiled the steel of her dagger, packing it away beneath the tail of her dress once more and began walking away as if nothing had ever happened, wearing a timid smile.

Katherine rolled to her side to face her daughters, the blood from her wound pouring to form a pool beneath her. The one, precise stab pierced her aorta, causing this profuse bleeding to drain her body. There was no coming back from this, Katherine had accepted that the moment she felt the blade pierce her skin. The grimace that she had worn and her eyes had since then lost their horrific look. A look of peacefulness and acceptance had assumed it's position, knowing she was just at the verge of eternal peace.

"D-daughters..." Katherine mumbled, her voice piercing the unsettling quietness of the courtyard. Katarina blinked, her face expressionless. "P-please, escape this place. The walls of this city... they are not a home, they are a prison." Katherine continued, the volume in her voice raising as she voiced her warning.

Cassiopeia, pushed Katarina away and ran to her mother's side, continuing to cry over her dying body. Katarina, however, still stood, watching the scene play over. And over. And over. And over, until the scene was forgotten; inhibited by her mind.

"Mother! Mother! Don't leave us, please!" Cassiopeia repeated, crying into the shoulder of Katherine's dress. Katherine moved her arm with the strength remaining in her body and embraced her child, keeping her smile as Katarina turned her back on the two of them. She then began walking back in the direction of their home, watching as Marcus burst from the foyer. Everything was a blur to her, watching as her father collapsed at Katherine's side, taking her hand and squeezing it with all his might.

"Go in peace, my wife." Marcus whispered, trembling as the tears in his eyes dripped down and onto Katherine's dress. And, as her husband's words made a home in her ears, she heeded his command. She went in peace, closing her eyes and exhaling one final breath. And just as quickly as she came into this world, she left it. Katherine Du Couteau was no more.

* * *

Katarina's eyes shot open as beads of sweat ran down her face, her chest heaving as she awoke from the nightmare she had just encountered. That dream was her memories returning to her, as her young mind staved off the cruel memories of her past. Although the dream seemed so short, two hours had passed and the sun had set. Her room as now dark as she sat up, not caring about anything else that was going on around her, beginning to bawl uncontrollably.

That was her mother responding to her request to speak, returning to Katarina the memory of her death and the warning she had given to her and Cassiopeia. The warning to leave. To run. To abandon their home and go somewhere they were safe.

Katarina wiped her sweat away, as well as stray tears, trying to steady her breathing. Heavy footsteps could be heard outside her room, Jarvan's. Normally, this was a time in which she needed to be alone, but in the circumstances presented, there's nowhere else she'd rather be than with him. The one man willing to console her in such a trying time, Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth, the man she'd sworn up and down that she'd kill one day.

These once repressed memories now flooded through her mind, bringing new thoughts and emotions that she had never experienced before into her life. And in the wake of that, an attachment spawned, a need to have Jarvan at her side. To soothe the loneliness of being in this strange land bound in a quandary of this caliber.


	4. Consolation

Short summary of the earlier chapters for those who didn't wish to read the violent parts. Katarina's repressed memory of her mother, Katherine's, death returns to her following a request "speak" with her. In the wake of this nightmare, Katarina remembers the last words of her dear mother. "Please, escape this place. The walls of this city, they are not a home, they are a prison", a warning to leave Noxus. However, that was all that was remembered, and much remains a mystery behind her death. To her at least.

* * *

The lock to Katarina's door was thrown, the door pushed open as Jarvan rushed in, exerting haste and concern as he heard Katarina's sobbing. He carried with him a lamp, which was then set on her dresser as he leaned on her bed, grasping her hand. "What's wrong, Katarina?" He murmured as she began to sniffle and muffle more cries with her left hand.

"I... m-my mother..." She managed to stutter out, her vision shaky as her eyes closed. Over and over, the scene replayed in her mind. A recurring nightmare. Not only the scene, but also the phrase that she uttered just before she passed. The warning she had given to her daughters.

"What about her?" Jarvan replied, feeling his grip on Katarina's hand tighten as she was further distressed by the prince asking her to elaborate.

"S-she... the memories..." The assassin further rambled, her mind incapable of forming a full sentence before her memories returned to plague her once more.

Jarvan bothered not asking her what was causing all this distress, leaning forward and embracing Katarina just as he had hours earlier. Upon feeling his arms wrap around her shaking frame, Katarina was calmed. Jarvan's embrace, his voice, his very presence was enough to calm her down.

Sniffling and wiping her eyes, Katarina looked up at Jarvan. As she locked eyes with him, she was almost lost in them. In the relative darkness of her bedroom the prince's blue orbs seemed golden. She was entranced, it was impossible for her to deny this. Although they were sworn enemies just the other day, here she was, Katarina Du Couteau, locking eyes with the Crown Prince of Demacia, having just been crying in his arms, this all felt right to her.

No longer did Katarina feel as if she was trapped by her foreordained path, or the overbearing morality of contempt for others and nonacceptance of Noxus' upper echelon. She was free from the walls that trapped her in Noxus. Now she was, somewhat forcibly, welcomed into a land where she would be safe from those who plotted against her and her family. However, such safety wouldn't be in reach for her father and sister for long.

Katarina's distressed bawling had stopped as the prince comforted her. She now had her head buried in his ornate white coat, inhaling his scent and enjoying his firm hold on her. She shivered as the prince would hush her, feeling his hand glide across her back and warm her cold skin.

Keeping her eyes fixed upon Jarvan's, she wiped her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, moving in closer a bit and releasing the tension in her body that came with her awful nightmare. "Thank you, prince..." She murmured to him, breaking the lock of their eyes.

"Truly, Katarina, it's nothing. I won't allow you to be so distressed while in my own, especially when I can do something to ease such distress." He whispered in reply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her.

A force began to move Katarina as she heard those words. The kindness and comfort she was shown... she had to repay him somehow, her own words did not satisfy this desire. Pulling away ever so slightly, she leaned forward upon seeing his eyes were closed. She swallowed hard and licked her lips, taking a very bold, but necessary, step in reinforcing their relationship.

A deep breath later, Katarina leaned forward and pressed her lips to Jarvan's, tilting her head to the side and savoring the feeling of his surprising soft lips against hers. Jarvan raised an eyebrow, feeling Katarina's lips being pressed against his so suddenly. Never had he thought of Katarina as the kind of girl to kiss, cry, or be so open to somebody who was supposed to be an enemy. Though, it seemed as if she had no longer seen him as an enemy.

Katarina held the kiss for a few moments longer than one could imagine it should have ended, but finally did part ways when she felt the time had come. Immediately, the prince opened his eyes and was met by Katarina's glimmering hazel orbs, staring right back at him.

"You're just full of surprises, Katarina..." Jarvan said, biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking what he truly wished to ask.

"I... well..." Katarina murmured, smiling faintly and averting her eyes from Jarvan's. Her face was fully flushed as she thought about the kiss she had just shared with the to-be king.

Jarvan chuckled a low chuckle, looking out the window to see the stars shining just in the distance. "Gather yourself, Katarina. We should eat dinner and get some rest, I'm expecting a letter from your father tomorrow. You should write one to send to him as well, I'm sure he'd be elated to hear from you." He said, waiting for Katarina to release her grip on him before he released his.

Albeit reluctantly, Katarina released him and subtly nodded. Jarvan stood himself up, brushed a loose hair of the assassin's from his coat and proceeded out of the room, leaving her to get dressed. The Noxian sighed as Jarvan left her, wishing they could have laid together so that she could have a shoulder to cry upon, but knew their time together was limited that night.

Katarina noticed that Jarvan had left the lamp he entered the room with to her, but seeing out of the corner of her eye light shining down the hallway. The prince was going through the house, ignited the oil lamps that hung in the hallways, giving off ambient light into her room as well. However, she paid little attention to that and stood herself up, wandering over to her wardrobe and beginning to pick through it.

After a minute or two of searching, she had picked out an elegant purple dress, looking at it in the light of the lamp and shrugging, satisfied with it's look. It was a solid color with very little decoration to it, but it was still satisfactory. She was never a very fashion-oriented girl and quite simple by nature, so the apparel provided was more than enough for her tastes.

Upon donning the dress and folding the clothes she had changed into after arriving, she found herself a pair of glossy black high-heels. It was a bit unusual for her to wear a pair of shoes of that particular style, but she was aiming to impress Jarvan with her appearance. Besides, embarrassment would surely ensue should she show up looking unfit to be having dinner with a prince.

Sighing, she looked down on herself in the mirror. Katarina had completely flipped the script. Changing into an elegant dress and donning a pair of high-heels that brought unreal discomfort to her all to impress a man who was supposed to hate every fiber of her being. And yet, all it took was a few words from her father, and it seemed as if that hatred never existed to begin with.

She started off into the hallway, teasing her hair as she rounded the corner and began down the stairs to the main floor of the prince's home. Katarina couldn't help but admire the place she would be staying. It was rather well decorated. Opulent in some places, rustic in others. For example, the foyer held collection of weaponry taken as keepsakes from his enemies, as well as framed landscapes that lined the wall to add value to the room.

As she reached the foyer, the assassin merely followed the sound of moving chairs, scurrying feet and clanking of a pot. Soon enough, she found herself standing in the prince's kitchen, watching as he was just finishing their dinner.

"I didn't know princes were cooks." Katarina cooed from the doorway, stepping into the room and leaning on one of the counters.

"Well, you can't depend on a servant for everything," He said, beginning to slice a freshly peeled potato from the pantry into a pot filled with various meats and vegetables. "If you want it done right, do it yourself."

"I cannot fault you for such a philosophy." Katarina agreed. It was often her own philosophy, and was genuinely delighted to see that the prince was everything but what she was expecting him to be.

After a few minutes of mundane silence, Katarina cleared her throat to banish the innate rasp in her voice. "So... Jarvan... why did you agree to accept me into your home?" Katarina asked, knowing full well that this was precarious subject, but she needed answers.

Jarvan's cutting motions stopped as he heard Katarina's question. He could have very easily given her some bullshit answer about truly caring about her family, but didn't. The truth was, Jarvan couldn't have cared any less about Katarina's family, it was merely Katarina herself that he was concerned about. There were some feelings simmering within him that made him see Katarina in a more positive light, but those needed to stay under the veil of secrecy until the time comes when it's right to profess such sensitive feelings. Not now, Katarina was far too frailly minded. So perhaps the truth was the best answer to give.

"Your father threatened to kill me if I did otherwise." The prince admitted. "I had a limited amount of time to reply to his request, otherwise he'd kill me. No bartering, no denial, just explicitly agreeing to harbor you until he comes for you when everything pans out."

"W-what?! I swear, I'll beat that man silly an-" Katarina interjected, but was quickly cut off by Jarvan.

"However, upon giving it further thought, I reconsidered my original decision. You're here because your father wanted you to be safe. He wasn't sending the letter as a rival, he was sending it as a father." Jarvan explained, resuming his fluent cutting motions.

"O-oh... er- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out, it's just..." Katarina's face flushed, reflecting how embarrassed she truly was at how she acted just then.

Out of the corner of Jarvan's eye, he spotted her face flushing red. "Why do you care, anyway?" He said, keeping his eyes fixed on the pot in front of him.

"Because you're all I have left. I can't have my keeper going off and getting himself killed all because my father is a hothead." Katarina said, her tone low and solemn. "I suppose all those papers sitting on father's desk with my mother's handwriting..."

Jarvan perked up, tuning his head and raising a brow. "What did they say?"

"Well, when I say papers, I meant a notebook. I flipped through it."

"And?"

"On every page was the name "Jericho Swain" written repeatedly and on every line until the last page." Katarina elaborated, still unsure of what it was all supposed to mean."

"What was so special about the last page?"

"Danger - written in the..."

"Same..."

"Format..."

Katarina's eyes went wide, looking up to Jarvan who's eyes were just as wide, teeming with confusion and concern. And just like that, all the pieces fell in place. Her mother's warnings were written everywhere, Katarina just didn't have the nexus of it all in her possession. The memory of her death – the final warning.

"Jarvan..." Katarina swallowed hard, the veil of confusion lifting and the light of day hitting the cold, hard truth. The man she'd taken orders from for so many years, blindly following him, was the true danger, not her targets. "Is Swain behind all this?"

"From what your father tells me, your mother lost her sanity after beginning an investigation into his past. The maid who was responsible for the assassination of Katherine, lost her cover after your father tracked her down, questioned, and executed her. She was one of his agents, sent to keep an eye on persons of interest. In this case, your father." Jarvan explained to the best of his knowledge which was limited, albeit, but it was still knowledge. "He's in league with a group called the Black Rose."

Katarina's hands clenched and her teeth was bared, her rage beginning to vent out, but not in Jarvan's direction. Her mind was flooding with pure, unadulterated rage towards Jericho Swain, a man who had her limited trust and was now about to exploit that to knock her father, even sister, out of the picture, and then her.

"Everything will be dealt with in time, Katarina. Please, calm yourself." Jarvan said in a low voice, hoping that would calm her somewhat, to no avail. Katarina turned and stormed off, out of his kitchen and up the staircase, back to her room. She'd then collapse in the floor of her bedroom, and begin repeatedly smashing the hardwood flooring with her fist.

Jarvan watched her storm off suddenly, turning back to their dinner. _'This woman...' _He thought to himself, chucking the half-cut vegetable into the mix, setting the pot to the side, dousing the stove's fire and chasing after Katarina.

Up the stairs he went in pursuit of Katarina, nearly tripping as he heard her fists smash against the floorboards. He shook his head and continued his chase, entering her room to find her collapsed on the floor. "Katarina..." He murmured, kneeling behind her and setting a hand upon her back.

Having no response from Katarina, he approached her from the front and helped her up. Jarvan held her in his arms for a moment, feeling her whimper and knock him gently, hearing her say "L-let me go... I have to stop him..." a few times, but he held her in place. He merely hushed her, picking her up and moving her to the bed. Laying her down as gently as he could, he slipped off her shoes and lit a lamp, setting it upon her dresser and taking a seat on the opposite side of her on the bed.

"Katarina, I'm sorry to have stirred you once more... it was none of my business, so I told you the truth. If you need me to leave, I'll go and leave you to your thoughts. It's all up to yo-"

"Stay with me tonight. I need you here." Katarina interjected rather bluntly. She was laying on her side, her front facing Jarvan. He turned his head around to see tears running from the corners of her eyes, her face expressionless. The prince swallowed hard for a moment, but decided it would be best if he stayed, for her sake.

Jarvan nodded, leaning over and unlacing his boots, leaving them at the bedside and fixing himself next to her. Although he was about to bed down with a Noxian, an assassin no less, it felt right. Just as right as it felt to Katarina. He sighed, seeing Katarina move herself closer to him, putting an arm across his chest and grasp his other side, urging him to turn over to her. He did so, finding Katarina placed herself against his chest, hiding her eyes from him.

"Everything will be okay, Katarina. I will see to it, regardless of the fate that will befall us." He whispered, feeling muffled whimpers in his coat as she began to cry into his clothing. "It'll all be okay... you hear me?" He continued, pushing Katarina away for a moment until she looked up to match his warm, reassuring gaze.

"Yes... I heard you." Katarina said with a faint grin. Exerting the boldness she had showcased hardly an hour ago, she pushed herself up until her lips crashed upon the prince's. Her eyelids slid close, letting herself get lost in the kiss. And just like that, the worry, the unsureness, it was all gone. This man was her defender, her shield, and she would have to accept that if she were to move forward in life once more.

The prince wrapped his arms around Katarina, pulling her closer and extending the kiss, he as well losing himself in this kiss. This woman, the redheaded she-devil of Noxus, was the woman he would simply have to cope and live with. There wasn't any way around it now, he'd given his word to her and her father. If she continued treating him with this kindness, he could get used to having her around.

Although their reluctance couldn't be hidden, they parted lips and looked into each others eyes. Katarina's eyes now glimmered once more with relief and even happiness, knowing that this enemy prince was going to protect her until he no longer could.

"Stay with me, Prince Jarvan..." Katarina whispered.

Jarvan replied to her rather simply, "I will."

Katarina wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "My prince..." She mumbled, pressing her body against his and closing her eyes, smiling in bliss.


	5. Contingency

"Prince." A voice rang through Katarina's quiet room.

"Prince..." It persisted, the sound of a boot tapping against the floor beginning to accompany the voice.

"JARVAN!" It finally roared, jumping forward a bit as it did so.

Just as this strange voice pierced Jarvan's ears, the prince opened his eyes and turned his head. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, seeing the silhouette of a rather distinct hooded man standing in the doorway. Just as well, Katarina began to stir, who lay just on top of the prince in the violet dress she was wearing the night before. However, Katarina merely groaned and kept her eyes closed.

"Am I interrupting something?" The figure said, snickering and pulling down his hood, revealing the somewhat rugged face of Talon Du Couteau, the treasonous messenger from Noxus. "I have a message from Marcus for you." Talon crossed his arms, pulling forth a white envelope, sealed with blood red wax which Jarvan noticed instantly.

"Right, right." Jarvan murmured, looking down to see Katarina still buried in his coat with her arms wrapped around his torso. "If you don't mind... she's not going to get up... give it here." He groaned, pulling his right arm out from beneath Katarina and holding it out to take the letter from Talon. Talon, having just scaled the prince's perimeter wall, picked the lock to his home and broke in, handed the letter to the prince.

"So... I'll let you two get to it then." Talon said with a lighthearted snicker, turning his back to Jarvan and Katarina, starting off into the hallway to show himself out.

"... leave us to it?! Y-you're getting the wrong idea!" Katarina hissed as she heard Talon comment on the current position the two were in.

"No, I think I get it. Don't worry Katarina, I won't tell your father." Talon faintly waved behind him as he proceeded out of the room, pulling his hood up and continuing on his way out.

Katarina scoffed and buried her face in the prince's chest once more, groaning and closing her eyes. She had been resting just fine, but was awakened at the very moment Jarvan was. She'd been lulled to sleep the night prior by Jarvan's soothing words, and was kept asleep by the beating of his heart. It was thanks to this newfound tranquility that Katarina's dreams had not been plagued by repressed memories of her mother. Some of them did return to her, but not in the form of the horrific vision that she'd experienced just a dozen hours ago.

However, this tranquility did not last for long as Jarvan began to shove on Katarina's shoulder. "Come on, Katarina. I need to go read this letter and prepare a reply. Maybe you can write one to him too." He said, waiting for Katarina to give way to him. It would take a moment, but she would finally roll over onto her side and nudge him.

Jarvan stood himself up, straightening out his coat, noticing a few loose strands of Katarina's iconic red hair. He sighed, picking off what ones he could see in the dim light of the room, proceeding out into the hallway and to his office. He sat down, hasted by curiosity and the genuine need for knowledge. He ignited the lamp that sat on the side of his desk, breaking the seal on the envelope and pulling out the letter contained within. He took a breath, unfolding it and holding it in the light. It read:

* * *

_Honorable Prince Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth,_

_The current situation is dire. I haven't much time to write, as I've failed to sleep for over twenty-four hours. The Black Rose is back to writing threats to me. I've also been noticing shady figures dwelling outside my estate. I fear my life will draw to a close soon after you receive this. That being said, it's time we deploy the contingency plan that I have been engineering for the past while._

_Don't show this to Katarina. It can be_

_For you, Prince, I'm going to leave Talon under your command. I've instructed him to watch you and Katarina both from a distance – a guardian angel, if you will. If you Demacians ever acquire the will and boldness to invade Noxus, then I leave you my estate to be handed off to Katarina._

_For my daughter, if you ever return to Noxus, which I object to, then you can claim your stake of the estate, assuming Cassiopeia does not claim it before you. If that is the case, then whatever remains in our coffers will go to you. This is merely my advice – stay with Jarvan. His intent is pure and he is a man of his word, otherwise you'd already be dead._

_In one week, if you're yet to receive a letter from me, then I am dead and so is Talon. Do not send any more messages, as they will fall upon deaf ears and there is potential for interception by the Black Rose. As for what must be settled on your end of things, you are to take Katarina's hand in marriage. No exceptions. Her future must be secured, and at this point I'm afraid this is the only plausible scenario in which her future would be secure. From this point onwards, you two have my blessing, regardless of what fate befalls me. I trust you with her, as you're all I have left to trust._

_Now, if you would, stop reading here and pass the letter to Katarina. This segment is meant exclusively for her eyes._

* * *

Jarvan leaned back, taking a moment to soak in all the information that had just been given to him. So, now, if Marcus is to fall, he's supposed to marry Katarina. Of course, he could very, very easily not do this and leave Katarina to her own devices, but after the kind of night they just had, he wasn't totally sure he could do such a heartless thing. It was clear that Katarina had become emotionally attached to him, so perhaps he could supply her with a home and a namesake that isn't forsaken. And, if he was to be frank with himself, he wasn't truly adverse to taking her hand.

Upon returning from his spell of thinking, he stood up and folded the paper, proceeding back to Katarina's room. At the time, Katarina had sat herself up and was pouting out the window, not wanting to get up. That was, she didn't want to rest in that bed either if Jarvan's wasn't with her. He stood in the door frame and knocked on it gently, holding up the letter. "You have a message from your father."

Katarina sprung up as she heard Jarvan's rugged voice ring through the room, turning as she heard that she had a message from her father. Her expression began to glow with a warm smile, moving to grab the letter greedily from the prince and sit down to read it. Jarvan quickly showed her the place in which she should begin reading, as he would poll her feelings on the contingency of marriage later on.

She took a deep breath, relaxing as she recognized her father's flowing handwriting, beginning to read the passage she was instructed to read.

* * *

_My dearest daughter Katarina,_

_I'll never be able to apologize enough for not being able to see you advance in life. However, I know full well that you're in good hands with the prince. He'll be there to care for you, and with your admission, please continue to live with him. _

_The status of Noxus' underground is no longer at the impasse it was at for so long. There is a group wishing death upon our family that also seeks to assimilate the Noxian crown and take that as well. Your mother and I caught on to this rather quickly and stood as obstacles, but your mother was not able to complete her investigation in time, as her life was cut short by a Black Rose affiliate ending her. I have resumed your mother's work, as well as bringing her peace by ending her killer's life._

_This whole situation is my fault, and I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me for all of this. I may never get another chance to say this, Katarina. I love you. I love you, your mother, Cassiopeia, and will continue to do so in this life and the next. Your mother is waiting for me, Katarina. I will see you when the time is right._

_All things come to pass, Katarina. This is no clan will live on in you._

* * *

The letter then ended. No closer, just what appeared to be blots on the paper where tears have fallen and marked it, as well as what looks like a failed attempt to continue the letter.

Katarina closed the letter, setting it to her left and looking down, beginning to meticulously smooth out her dress that had been severely creased from sleeping in it. She swallowed hard and began to whimper, her tears beginning to fall on the front of her dress. However, the slow drip of tears quickly changed as her tears began to run like a distraught brook. "F... father..." She managed to stutter out as her arms fell to her sides.

Jarvan let loose a tired sigh, straightening out his coat once more and taking his place at Katarina's side, giving her a firm shoulder to cry upon. And cry upon his shoulder she did, moving to sit in his lap and weeping into his neck.

"Everything is going to be okay, Katarina. I will see to it that you're able to live a comfortable life wherever you wish to go after all is said and done." Jarvan whispered into her ear, rubbing her back and hushing her in a low volume.

"H-h-how can I live comfortably? I'm a prisoner, J-Jarvan..." Katarina mumbled, continuing to cry into his clothing. Never before had she truly been this upset. It could have even been said that she'd cried more tears in the arms of the prince than she had the rest of her life.

"If your father is to... pass, then he's requested as his final wish, that I take your hand in marriage. You'd be given a safe, comfortable life here, with me." Jarvan explained, kissing her forehead and continuing to rub her back gently. "Would you be adverse to that?" The prince whispered, watching as Katarina picked her head up until her gaze met his.

Katarina had a rather unreal look in her eyes. A Noxian marrying a Demacian? Not unheard of, but very rare and even taboo in some regions. They would be stretching, snapping, burning the very fibers of their beliefs by being wed to each other, but at this point, Katarina didn't care. A life with the Crown Prince of Demacia sounded damn promising to her, regardless of her Noxian sentiment. She cracked a faint smile, kissing Jarvan upon his lips and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No, Prince, I wouldn't be."

* * *

Note from the author: I'll be divvying this day (in the story) up into multiple chapters, as I'll be throwing in a bonus super sexy combat chapter. Soon™.


	6. Betrayal

**WARNING: VIOLENCE AHEAD**  
I heavily recommend you read the previous chapter for context, as well as this one for the future.

* * *

Marcus tapped his foot impatiently, standing at the door to his home as he watched a familiar hooded figure stride through the courtyard of his estate. He hung his head and took a deep breath as the figure's stride gained momentum, eventually reaching his front door and pushing his way in.

"Marcus." It said, just as the door closed behind him, pulling his hood down to show the face of the blade's shadow, Talon Du Couteau, his servant.

"Talon. Did they receive my message?" Marcus asked, his voice gruff and tired. He'd been up for well over a day, afraid to sleep, knowing just how dangerous it was for him to let his guard down even for a moment.

"Yes, they have. I found Katarina and Jarvan in the same bed after waiting in the normal spot where he'd retrieve your letters. I entered the home after picking the lock to the back door, went upstairs to find her getting very comfortable with him." Talon said, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. "Are you sure we should allow that?"

"I am not one to interfere with my daughter's relationships. If she's getting close to her keeper, then good. She keeps Jarvan happy, and the more their bond strengthens, then the more willing he'll be to protect her. I have no quandary, and you should not-... you _will _not interfere." Marcus spat the last sentence at him in a sour tone.

Talon merely scoffed as he finished speaking. "I have something to deliver to you as well, Marcus." Talon narrowed his eyes and smirked. "From the Black Rose."

Marcus' eyes widened as Talon pushed his cloak aside and his in-line blade fell from it's retracted position. "Don't be a fool, boy. Neither of us will leave this place alive." He threatened, placing his hands behind his back and resting them upon the hilts of two daggers stowed away beneath his overcoat.

"You are a traitor to Noxus, and will be punished as so." Talon said, clenching his fists. His mind was set in a state on non-stop conflict. He had been loyal to this clan for years, and yet here he was, about to execute the patriarch under the orders of the group they were trying to kill off.

"Are you not also a traitor? They say don't shoot the messenger, but when the messenger is the one enabling it all, why don't we?" Marcus barked at him, pulling forth the right blade and moving to strike Talon's jugular. Talon quickly moved to counter this, shifting to the left and raising his arm to block the blade.

"You could call me a traitor, but this is all of your own accord! I'm merely caught in the middle!" Talon cried, a tear forming in his eye as he began to press against Marcus' advance. Marcus didn't waste a lot of time countering this, knowing he would not win this fight if it went on for much longer. He unsheathed his left blade and pressed them both against Talon's blade, shoving him back and regaining his footing.

"No... this is all Swain's fault, can't you see that? Are you too blinded by what's in front of you to see who's behind you?!" Marcus proclaimed, dashing forward and beginning to duel the assassin, grunting as their blades crashed upon one another.

"Do you honestly think delving any deeper would have helped you, Marcus? If that's the case, then you, your idiot wife and your harlot daughters will all burn in your own fire!" Talon rebutted turning his body to the side and welcoming Marcus' blade against his own. As their fight gained momentum in Talon's favor, he began laughing maniacally as Marcus' stance began to falter.

With each clash of their blades, Marcus was beginning to lose their fight. His footing was lost every now and then and the edge of Talon's blade would cut straight through his light layers of clothing. Each cut began to bleed, marking his clothing and forcing waves of pain to rock through his body. Although he'd suffered worse than this, in his weary and aged form, he was not ready for a fight.

And then, Marcus made a fatal mistake. He lost the grip on his right blade as Talon parried him, watching in horror as it fell to the ground far to his side. Talon knew he had an opening, and went for it. He brazened his weapon and lunged forward, his blade piercing the flesh of Marcus Du Couteau, his master, the man who saved his life from the streets.

Marcus looked Talon dead in the eye as he stopped, his eyes calm and body still. He could feel the cold steel penetrating his body, knowing he'd ran him through and through. There was no recovery for him, as the blood could already be felt trickling from the wound, eventually beginning to pour. Marcus grunted, his life liquid beginning to leak from the corners of his mouth.

"Watch your back Talon, after all the ones you've stabbed, you're bound to make some enemies." Marcus murmured, raising his left hand and swiping the edge of his secondary blade across the neck of Talon, striking his jugular vein and sending him to the floor. "Like me." He smirked, following him all the way to the floor as he planted his dagger into his chest.

Talon looked Marcus in the eyes as he'd now been mortally wounded himself, much worse than Marcus had been wounded. "You played with fire and you got burned, Talon Du Couteau." Marcus remarked, pulling his blade out and stabbing it into a new area of his chest.

"Marcus..." Talon whispered with what air remained in his lungs and strength in his body.

"It's too late for apologies. You may never regret what you've done, but you're going to regret me." Marcus finished, spitting his blood in Talon's face. His body then fell limp atop Talon's corpse, the assassin's blade still buried in his body. He smirked, feeling Talon's heart stop.

And then, his own stopped.


	7. Escalation

Warning: Lemons ahead. If you don't want to read that, I highly suggest you read it anyway, as there's some pretty important plot points that might seem insignificant after your first read through.

* * *

"_The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."_

_Ezekiel 25:17_

* * *

Four nights had passed since the costly assassination of Marcus Du Couteau. Though, it could be said that the assassination went off without a hitch. The Black Rose was seeking to dispose of Talon as soon as they could, as he was no longer of use to them. They got the information they needed, now they needed him, and Marcus, to get out of their way. Now, they were out-of-the-way, but a new obstacle stands in their path, an obstacle by the name of Katarina Du Couteau, the only other surviving member of the Couteau family.

In her current state, Katarina poses no threat, but when she makes her abrupt, inevitable resurface on the political scene, she's going to shake up both Noxus and the Black Rose. How might she make this resurfacing? Rising from her labeled state of prisoner is a hard task, but there were countermeasures in place before her return. An arranged marriage between her and the man she'd spent nearly a week with, Jarvan Lightshield the fourth, Crown Prince of Demacia, her keeper and new-found companion.

She had no quandary with marrying the prince, not even a bit – she'd been treated with the uttermost respect and she'd even spent multiple nights with Jarvan in his bed. That being said, it should be disclaimed that Jarvan hadn't made any intimate advances on the assassin. He was no sleaze, and certainly didn't want to take advantage of Katarina in the emotional state she was in. However, that's not to say Katarina was adverse to such a development. In fact, it's something she'd thought on for a while, and after spending nearly every hour of every day with the prince for the last week...

Katarina knows that she's ready to go ahead.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Katarina murmured across the table, picking at the meal in front of her and staring into the hearth.

"Excellent question. I honestly have no idea." Jarvan replied from the opposite end, cutting through the steak in front of him and watching as Katarina merely picked at the generous cut of meat. "What's wrong... did I not cook yours to your preference? You said you wanted it rare, didn't you? I cooked both of ours for around the same time, so they should both be the same rarity..."

Katarina adjusted her eyes to Jarvan who looked down. He was meticulously cutting his meat to make sure it had just the right color and texture. Her steak was just fine, it's merely that she was losing herself in thought. "N-no, it's fine, I was just thinking, that's all." She said, waving her hands dismissively and gripping her cutlery, beginning to eat.

Jarvan raised an eyebrow as he continued to cut his meat into orderly strips. "Oh? What could you possibly be thinking about that would take your mind off of eating?" He chuckled lightly, not believing that Katarina was thinking at all, merely zoned out for the time. Upon hearing these words, Katarina's face flushed and she looked down, continuing to eat as if he'd never said anything at all.

She was daydreaming more than anything. Daydreaming about the preordained future ahead of her. The transition from once being the highest priority target for Demacian authorities, to being the wife of their future king. Would that even be possible? Surely everything would pan out, or so she hoped, as she began to eat with far more haste than her betrothed on the opposite end of the table.

"Whoa, no need to speed up, Kat. Nobody is going to take it away from you." Jarvan said, a chuckle trailing it as he lifted a strip of steak to his mouth, watching to see if she'd reply.

After a session of rushed, intense chewing, Katarina set her fork down and placed her hands in her lap, feeling awfully embarrassed at what she'd just done. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Katarina looked up and opened her mouth. "We need to talk... I've done a bit of thinking... and..." She looked down, her face holding it's prior flushed state.

"Then let's go talk now. If it eases your mind, I'm willing to let my meal get cold. Come on." Jarvan said in a benignant voice, wiping his mouth and hands and pushing himself from his seat. He then approached from his end of the dining room table and held his hand out to her, smiling and taking a deep breath, hoping that whatever she desperately needed to talk about wasn't something that would compromise their relationship.

She took his hand and started out of the dining room, dragging along Jarvan who was taking back by her sudden nervousness. The assassin drug him all the way upstairs and into the prince's bedroom, pulling him inside and shutting the door behind him. Once Jarvan was able to regain his footing and correct the look of his coat, he turned to Katarina. "What's wrong? Why are you so... upset, dear?" He bit his tongue as he finished his sentence, realizing what he'd just said may have been improper. Katarina didn't say anything, merely pressed herself against Jarvan and wrapped her arms around his torso, looking up into his eyes with a faint smile.

"Katarina, what are you do-" Jarvan attempted to speak, but his sentence was cut short by Katarina standing up upon the tips of her toes and pressing her lips to his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, being held back within the violet dress that she wore at the time.

As their lips were held together, the voices of both silenced for the duration, thoughts swam through Jarvan's mind. Thoughts of Katarina and the few times that he'd actually spoken with her, and the secret admiration he'd held for her. The power she possessed was simply entrancing for the prince, to behold her in battle, although she was fighting the men he trained personally, was like a drug. A spectacle in his mind, of beauty, of fury, of strife and grace. And finally, Katarina ran out of breath, her heart pounding like a drum, separating their lips long enough for Jarvan to speak. "What's gotten into you? Is this what you wanted to talk about...?" He questioned, but before he could continue, he was silenced by Katarina's index finger pressing against his lips.

"Why don't we hush our voices," She said in a far more sultry tone than usual, reaching for the straps that held her dress up. "And speak with our hips?" Her faint smile widened as she bit upon her lower lip. Slowly, the violet velvet straps on her shoulders fell from their place, revealing a black lace bra strap just beneath it. She smirked, slipping her arms from the hole and allowing it to drop to her feet, the ornate cloth pooling at her feet. Katarina folded her hands behind her back, allowing the man before her to admire her toned, trained form. However, her treasures were concealed by a thin veil of black lingerie.

Jarvan bit harder upon his tongue, finding Katarina's form far too alluring. Gradually, his willpower crumbled underneath the pressure of his fiancee. Her nearly bare breasts pressed against his chest, the little kisses she placed upon his neck, it was all far too much. He knew what Katarina wished to speak with him about now, and now was their time to "converse" on it.

"Come on, Prince..." Katarina whispered into his ear, standing on the very tips of her toes as her arms wrapped around his neck. And a moment after the last word of her sentence escaped her lips, Jarvan lost control. His meaty hands gripped her back and brought his lips to hers, beginning to suck on her kiss as a well of lust was beginning to overtake his mind.

It had felt like ages since the prince last felt a woman's touch, and now here he was, with a woman whose path was ordained by her father. To be the wife of the Crown Prince, although she AND her family were declared enemies of the state more than once before this conundrum they'd gotten themselves stuck in. However, it did seem like a happily ever after was still in reach for the both of them.

As their intense kiss continued, their bodies soon found their way to the meticulously made bed, the prince beginning to almost tear off his clothing in absolute anticipation of what was to come. It was an amazing feeling that he was getting, knowing that he was soon to get the satisfaction of being with a woman after his "dry spell", as well as that woman being the one he'd spent so many restful nights with.

As Jarvan freed himself of his coat, his tight undershirt beginning to be pulled over his head, Katarina kicked off the black pair of glossy high-heels she'd worn to dinner. Nearly the moment the two were in the air, Katarina disappeared in a puff of red smoke, quickly reappearing on top of the prince, directing his now free-falling body to the bed and assisting him with his shirt.

The redhead now straddled the Demacian stallion, her hands traveling up and down his toned chest, feeling every bump, muscle and scar that his chest was so laden with. She genuinely felt surprised at how scarred his frame really was. She knew that she had seen some rather gruesome battles, but Jarvan... it was unreal. She admired this quality even more than the benevolence that was so prevalent in his personality. To show him just how much she appreciated him, as well as please her own personal curiousity, she leaned down and began to worship the prince's scars.

Vigorously her tongue swept over one on his breast that appeared to have been from a bastard sword, quickly transitioning to what appeared to be where an arrow had failed to penetrate his shoulder. It was a sick fascination that she had with this mans marks, Katarina even shocked herself by how "into" it she got.

"I'm glad that somebody admires them." Jarvan murmured, taking a deep breath as Katarina breathed on a damp spot on his skin, sending a gentle shock through his system that aroused his senses. Katarina smirked and continue to glide her tongue across his battle scars, feeling ever ridge, every cut, every crevice that riddled his skin.

"We have both suffered for our people, Jarvan. If you've ever been with a woman who hasn't worshiped you for these, then they were unworthy of you." Katarina said in reply, earning a quiet chuckle from the prince as he laid beneath her, enjoying the feeling of her slick tongue gliding across his tanned skin. However, it didn't take long for Katarina to become displeased with the progress they were making. She wanted it to go faster and get to the good part, the part she'd been waiting for.

After a few more licks, Katarina rolled off of Jarvan's chest and spread herself out. Although she hadn't said a single word, the prince knew exactly what she desired, and he would grant her it. He pushed his back off the bed and repositioned himself over the top of Katarina, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. Gradually, his kisses gained in-depth, traveling down on the Noxian's body, taking time to worship what few scars were visible on her front.

The prince's kissing stopped at her nether area, beginning to pull upwards on the lacy black pair of panties that Katarina wore over her matching garter belt. He wasn't completely sure how she'd managed to sneak all this past him, saying "Katarina, how did you manage to get all this? Surely, I didn't pall all this into your drawers..."

Katarina giggled, followed by a low moan as Jarvan pulled up on her panties, the fabric brushing up against her clitoris and shockingly sensitive nether region. "W-well... you should really start looking behind you when I go out with you... I sneak off and look at the clothing shops and came across this particular set of attire... I thought you might like it." She said with a smile, feeling the prince's hot breath against her folds. After the prince had enough of simply looking, he pushed her panties aside and spread the folds of her vagina, taking in its vivid pink hue and lewd scent that doubled aphrodisiac to Jarvan.

"Mmph..." Was all Katarina could manage to utter as the relative coolness of the air embraced her exposed flesh, feeling an odd sensation build deep within her. This sensation would only continue to intensify as the prince indulged himself in Katarina's ever-appealing sex, taking the initiative and beginning to lap up the trickle of juices from her hole. As more of the Noxian's nectar was granted, leaking from her core and on the waiting tongue of the crown prince of Demacia, the waiting had begun to eat away at him.

Vigilantly, Jarvan transitioned into fully fledged cunnilingus. His tongue forcefully split her tightly puckered folds, his coarse tongue beginning to explore the moistening sex of his betrothed. Katarina gripped the sheets and arched her back, for the first time having such a thick, warm and slick element penetrating her that wasn't considered to be genitalia. And even then, the men she'd been with or pursued relationships with had fatally failed her in one way or another which allowed her to keep comparable tightness to that of a virgin, but not quite holding her rose.

"Oo~oh god, my prince..." Katarina moaned, a hand releasing she sheets and moving to her bra, ripping it off and furiously groping herself. She'd then free her other hand, using it to comb through Jarvan's moderately long hair, finding it to be surprisingly silky and flowing.

As much as Jarvan would have adored to reply snidely to her remark, he had a much more pressing matter on his hands, pleasing the woman before him. His tongue pushed deeper and deeper into the convulsing hole of the Noxian assassin, rubbing in every nook and cranny that his tongue was capable of reaching, forcing more and more moans of building want from Katarina.

Jarvan pressed onwards, in a way, as he withdrew his tongue from Katarina and determined that he too wanted this process to speed up, just as she did. He laid his tongue upon her clitoris, bringing his fingers to bear and inserting two into her ever-tightening cunt. As his tongue brushed against her clitoris, his fingers pressed deeper into her tunnel, further than his tongue was able to reach, much to the delight of Katarina. She bucked her hips against his fingers, feeling as if she could reach her climax at any moment.

And that moment was now, as the prince lowered his lips to her clitoris and began sucking upon her bundle of nerves. His calloused lips against her clitoris, all combined with the superb feeling of his tongue flicking it back and forth in his mouth quickly became far, far too much for Katarina to contain. With a loud moan the pierced the quiet, cool air, her juices spurted forth from her core, much of it soaking his fingers and the rest lightly coating the ungentlemanly, but enthralling scruff that adorned his chin.

Jarvan straightened his back and stood up from his leaning position, licking his fingers clean and observing his handiwork. The once prideful Noxian had just been serviced to climax, rather quickly, by the Crown Prince, her groom-to-be. And she was okay with that, and her father who watched from the golden shores of heaven smiled down upon the two of them, knowing that Katarina was happy with where she was at. Delivered from deceit and chaos, into the arms of a benevolent prince.

"P-please, my prince... I'm ready for you. Let me reward you for all you've done for my welfare." Katarina murmured as Jarvan took a place on his feet. She laid her hands on her thighs and kept her legs spread, showing Jarvan's her leaking hole, very clearly indicating that she was ready for him.

Jarvan took action very quickly, undoing his pants and withdrawing his member. Upon giving it a few strokes, he presented it to Katarina. The cool air that embraced his length forced a few twitches, his per-ejaculate leaking from the tip. "You needn't repay me, but who am I to turn down such a generous gift..." He said in reply, leaning forward and pressing the head against her clitoris.

Katarina mumbled and parted her legs a bit further, allowing Jarvan ample space to fully penetrate her. She swallowed hard and arched her head back, anticipation beginning to get to her somewhat. But, after a few moments that felt like whole hours, Jarvan lowered his head to her vagina and with one, swift thrust, he'd penetrated her fully.

Katarina let loose a roar, feeling the prince's member part her tight cunt and begin to stir her up. This was a sensation she'd missed, having not had sexual intercourse with a man that she considered worthy of being with her in years. Between her missions and the lack of a worthy man that met her personal standards, it was impossible for her to experience any real sexual pleasure. But now, she'd found a man who had shattered her expectations and knew just how to make her tic.

The prince moved his hips after a few moments to let her tunnel set and adapt to his girth, beginning rather slow with her. Considering how quickly she'd met her climax during his cunnilingus, starting slow to prolong the experience was in the interest of both of them.

Her moans began slow and low, gripping the bedsheets and biting upon her lower lip to stifle the embarrassing noises. They grew in proportion to the prince's movements, growing in volume and intensity as he thrust into her, quickly becoming impossible for her to surpress the beautiful noises that began to echo through the bedchambers that she'd soon be sharing with Jarvan.

Quickly, the duo changed positions, as Katarina gripped Jarvan's shoulders and pulled herself upwards and into a vertical position. She wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated a lustful kiss. The prince also took a different initiative in this kiss, his tongue pressing through the tightly pursed lips of Katarina, seeking hers out and pressing against it. Katarina took his lead on this and tangled her tongue with his, beginning a beautiful, carnal dance within the mouth of the future queen of Demacia as her king's member was pushed deeper and deeper in her body.

Katarina parted their lips suddenly, releasing a sultry moan as the strong head of Jarvan's cock pressed against the mouth of her womb, continuing to bash against the entrance and putting a few odd thoughts in Katarina's head. They were strange thoughts, that of a family that she imagined she'd never get to have. A family with the crown prince in the land that shunned her family's name. And, to top it all off, the tension was beginning to build within her core, and Jarvan's was as well.

"J-Jarvan... I want you to cum with me, plea~ase..." She said, moaning as she attempted to complete the sentence. "And inside as well..." Katarina finished, biting down upon Jarvan's shoulder.

Jarvan didn't have time to question her request, there wasn't time for him, as he felt the walls of her vagina clamp down upon his girth and massage it until his climax was finally met. He pushed down upon Katarina's hips, hilting himself within her and forcing the assassin off of his shoulder. They locked lips and closed their eyes, Katarina cupping the prince's cheeks with her hands, her legs wrapped around his waist. Moments later, the prince's sperm erected from it's staging point at the head of his penis, flooding the womb of Katarina.

Katarina dug her nails into the back of Jarvan's neck, meeting her orgasm at the same time as Jarvan had. She felt the heat welling in her stomach, bringing a sensation forth that she'd never felt before, and it had sent her flying. Her mind was far above the clouds, gliding above Valoran in the arms of her fiancee. And then, she descended from this maximum euphoria as she left Jarvan stand them both up from the bed, holding on tightly as he repositioned them.

He turned back the bedding and laid them both down, letting Katarina adjust her stark naked body atop his, his cock still deeply inserted within her. She relaxed on top of him, her sweat glistening on her body as Jarvan pulled the sheet back over their stacked bodies. Katarina released a long sigh, setting her head on Jarvan's chest and closed her eyes.

Jarvan released an equally long sigh, setting a hand on top of Katarina's head and combing through her hair and kissing her forehead. "Katarina, there's something I've neglected to tell you until now." He whispered, continuing to comb through her long, flowing red hair.

"Oh... and what is that, prince?" Katarina smiled, tuning her head upwards and looking into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered, a faint smile spanning his lips.

Katarina's face flushed as she pushed herself upwards, pressing her lips to his. "I love you too, Jarvan." She finished, lowering herself back upon his length, waiting until the head met her cervix until she laid herself back down. Katarina closed her eyes and searched for Jarvan's hand, taking a hold of it and squeezing it in hers as the two fell asleep.

Katarina's mind was blank for the most part, except for three words in particular that kept repeating over and over.

I love you.

It simply wouldn't stop.

And she didn't want it to stop.


	8. Premonition

Violence ahead. I won't summarize this in the next chapter, as this will hold importance in the future.

* * *

A gentle breeze wafted over the Lightshield estate. The sun was set high in the sky at its uniform place during the noon hours. Not a cloud in the sky; clear as could be. Truly a beautiful day in Demacia, as most days were. The peace permeated the air and could be felt by all walks of life. The birds sung, the plants sprung from their roots and budded strikingly beautiful flowers, and the occupants of a particular estate emerged from their housing to enjoy the fair day.

"Say, prince, you did this all on your own?" Said Katarina, leaning down to take a deep breath of one of the many rose bushes that populated the floral sanctuary of the Lightshield home. Katarina smoothed out the white sundress she wore which dropped just past her knees. She leaned back and did her best to keep her hair back, as it swayed freely on the spring breeze. Eventually, she gave back and repositioned her hands to keep her dress down.

Jarvan adjusted his coat and rubbed his chin, standing in the gazebo located just a couple of feet from where Katarina stood, observing the freshly bloomed flowers. "Yes, I've never hired a servant to work on the residence besides my gatekeeper. I've never been one to depend on others." He turned to Katarina and crossed his arms, looking at the backside of his home and meticulously searching for anywhere he could improve the home.

A few new windows in my bedroom would certainly help with the lack of natural light, he thought, but was quickly snapped from his thoughtful daze as Katarina approached him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a rather tight hug. "You know, Jarvan, you can't do everything on your own." She mumbled, straightening her back and burying her face in his neck, taking deep breaths and enjoying the moment.

Jarvan looked down on her with a smile. What she said held the most truth of anything she'd said to him before. He couldn't do everything on his own, although he struggled to be independent. He couldn't carry the weight of a state on his shoulders, although he knew that would one day be the task he'd be assigned. But, the more he thought about it, he didn't have to suffer through it all on his own. The exemplar had been sent a gift from the heavens, an angel of his own by the name of Katarina. A gift nobody would ever be able to take away from him.

"Yes yes, I suppose you are right, dear." Jarvan said with a chuckle, pressing Katarina's head into his neck, savoring the sensation of feeling her breath upon his skin.

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right." Katarina mumbled with a cocky chuckle, placing a gentle kiss upon his neck.

The perfect scene was interrupted by the sudden unsheathing of a blade. Shadows darted from side, corner to corner, until finally concluding their quick movements behind the towering Prince. And just like that, the once beautiful image before Katarina's eyes was morphed into the ultimate horror. The all-too-distinct sound of a blade stabbing into the flesh of the man in front of her was heard, but Katarina did not look down. She knew what was happening, as it didn't take long for her to feel a sharp pain in her stomach, which was quickly stifled by adrenaline flowing like a river to numb her senses.

Something different was felt in the hand that Katarina had set to Jarvan's lower back to keep herself pressed securely against him. It was the hilt of a blade. She gazed down and pushed herself away from Jarvan, finding that there was a blade connecting their bodies. The blade was in-line with the hilt that was held within Katarina's hand. She'd impaled the both of them, but without knowledge of how, or why.

"J-Jarvan..." Katarina mumbled, her right hand that held the hilt of the blade releasing the grip and falling to the side. She backed away from the man in front of him, looking up to meet his painless gaze. It didn't seem as if he was in pain, but she knew fer certain that he was dying, and so was she. "I'm sorry..."

Jarvan smiled, digging his nails into her back and stifling the coughs that began to mount on the horizon. The pain he felt was also quickly blocked by his adrenal glands opening up. "No, don't apologize to me, Katarina... Now, we feel no more pain." He replied, kissing her forehead and covering his mouth as he coughed. His blood was carried on his exhaled breath, dripping down from the corners of his mouth and falling in droplets onto Katarina's dress.

"Y-yes, no more pain." Katarina replied, tuning her head upwards and pressing her lips to the prince's. She felt his blood make contact with her lips, flowing into her mouth. The liquid of his life entered her body, mixing with her own that flowed upwards.

As their kiss ended, Jarvan held his smile, reaching around his back and gripping the blade, beginning to pull it out of them. Katarina began to grunt in pain, but was stifled by the prince's lips against her own. Pain after painful inch, the blade was removed from their bodies, falling to the ground behind them with a few short clanks.

Jarvan wrapped his arms around Katarina as he felt the energy leave his body, taking a few steps back and falling to the ground, her body following him all the way to the ground. Gradually, the blood began to pool beneath them, soaking both sides of Katarina's dress as well as Jarvan's coat.

No crying, not a single tears. No whimpers, not even a mewl. They accepted the fates set before them, and the reality that they were going to be delivered to a land where their relationship wouldn't be scorned, where their love could flourish eternally. Katarina smiled, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around Jarvan as her eyes closed. Slowly, so did Jarvan's, joining her at the gates of slumber.

And aloft on the wind they were, ascending to the golden shores of heaven.

* * *

Worry not! This isn't the end of our story! Stay tuned!


	9. Revelation

A light shake on her shoulder sprung Katarina from her deep slumber. She grunted and shrugged it off for a moment, but the person shaking her persisted, saying "Katarina? Wake up...". Finally, it got a bit too annoying for her, jarring her fully awake. She quickly sat up, forcing the sheet she was covered with to fly off her body, revealing that she was stark naked beneath the bedding.

"WHAT?" Katarina hissed, narrowing her eyes at the man beside her. "I was sleeping, and well too!" She continued, but quickly felt the lukewarm air of the bedroom she was in caress her bare skin. Her faced flushed and hands grasped at the sheets, pulling them up to conceal her body.

Jarvan, her to-be husband, laid at her side with an eyebrow raised and head slightly tilted. "Well get used to me waking you up. I'll be happening a lot..." He mumbled. "Anyway, I woke you up because you were crying in your sleep. What was wrong? A bad dream?" He questioned, genuinely concerned as to what might have been the matter with her. It wasn't the first time that a bad dream had sent her into tears, it's just this time, it hit him particularly hard, as they had just finished making love not five hours earlier.

"N-no... it wasn't a bad dream..." Katarina said in reply, laying back down at Jarvan's side, hugging his arm and getting a bit more comfortable. Upon further thought as to what her next words should be, she looked up at Jarvan and smiled. "In fact, it was a good one." She finished, closing her eyes and relegating her expression to a faint smile, her breathing beginning to slow once more as she fell asleep.

Although her face and voice said rather plainly that she was okay, Jarvan still had his inlaying concerns. Every time Katarina had cried, Jarvan was there to comfort her, and had been successful at every attempt. She was an emotional wreck inside, but it rarely was shown in the presence of others. But, when she was around Jarvan, she felt as if she could cry all that she wanted. No longer was she required by her position to paint a guise of an iron woman over her true self. A lonely woman who bottled a few too many emotions for her shelf to handle.

"Right, right. Must have been something beautiful." Jarvan said, pushing his said, pushing back his side of the bedding and pushing himself to his feet, beginning to dress himself in the uniform he'd discarded the night prior. A white coat and a black undershirt with a matching pair of trousers with a black pair of boots. It might have seemed a bit overkill, as he was for the most part just going to be lounging about with Katarina for the day, but he found it appropriate.

As he dressed, closed the curtains and lit the fireplace to keep the room warm for Katarina as she slept, he headed out and into the courtyard for a walk. It was a rather fine morning, the sun had looked like it just came up, giving Jarvan the idea that it was about 6, maybe 7 o' clock when his internal clock rung.

The birds sung their songs, constructing a lovely tune that carried well on the morning breeze that quickly found a home, in Jarvan's ears. A smile spanned his lips, starting down the path that stretched around to the floral sanctuary that Katarina had begun to spend much of her time in.

As he reached it, he bent over and picked a freshly bloomed rose from one of the many bushes that lined the perimeter of the gazebo in the center of his garden. Jarvan figured Katarina would have enjoyed a rose sitting on the bedside table when she decided to wake up. Afterwords, he took a step up and entered the gazebo, taking a seat and reaching beneath one of the benches for his tobacco pouch and pipe.

He undid the golden ties that held the mouth of the pouch open, parting the fabric and pulling out a clump of leaves. The prince inhaled the somewhat refreshing scent of the tobacco, simply the finest that could be grown in Demacia, quickly stuffing it into the business end of his pipe and striking a match on the bottom of his boot from the box hidden just beside his pipe. He lit the tobacco and shook the match until it was extinguished, tossing it off the side of his gazebo and leaning back.

The breeze had picked up considerably as the prince closed his eyes and took a draw from his pipe, slowly exhaling and reminiscing in memories from the night before. The vivid feeling of Katarina's skin against his, her body wrapped around his, her sex tightening around his member, all memories that he would cherish. However, his thoughtful daze would be broken by the sound of boots against the cobblestone-paved pathways of his sanctuary. His eyes moved slowly to face this disturbance, seeing the familiar black cloak of Marcus' courier, Talon. Jarvan swallowed hard, pushing himself to his feet and approaching the descent from the platform he stood upon.

Talon continued approaching, his hood down and unscathed face exposed, making no other sound than the sound of his boots against the paving.

"So does this mean...?" Jarvan said, piercing the silence of the sanctuary. The birds stopped singing their songs and the wind stood still.

"I'm afraid so." Talon said, stopping and folding his hands behind his back. "I'm terribly sorry. But, you can't let Katarina know." He said as he stopped. Something suspicious stood out to Jarvan, though. Talon's demeanor was... off. His voice was lighter, his steps certainly were as well.

"Why? We can't hide this from her forever." Jarvan argued, moving his hand to a shiv that was hidden beneath his coat. None of this sat right with him, but he did his damnedest to hide his suspicion.

While this impasse was reached, Katarina had clambered out of bed and redressed herself, being jarred awake by the sound of the two men in the sanctuary. However, she did not emerge from the bedroom just yet, instead opting to peek out the window and avoid leaving the bedroom if she could. Her heart jumped as she saw Talon, immediately noticing him. "Goddammit! Him again!" She roared, her voice hushed, running out of the bedroom to her own and finding a white sundress that looked fine enough, although her undergarments would show through.

Back in the courtyard, Talon remained completely silent, beginning to advance on Jarvan with his head angled downwards. Jarvan was taking reserved steps backwards, his hand beginning to shake as it gripped the hilt of his shiv.

"Please, prince, I've come to deliver the bastar-... Mr Couteau's final message." Talon said, piercing the cadence of the spring breeze that had built around them.

And that's when Jarvan knew for certain. This wasn't Talon. This was an imposter, a hell of a good one at that. The exemplar chuckled and turned his pipe over, dropping the smoldering tobacco leaves onto the wood and stomping it out, ensuring he wouldn't burn down his home. As he tossed his pipe to the side, he looked up and drew his blade. "I'll give it to you, whoever you are, you're a good imposter."

"Talon" was taken back by this remark, jumping back upon seeing the blade and swallowing hard. _'D-dammit! How did he know?! This wasn't supposed to happen! This wasn't supposed to happen!' _The imposter thought, but it's words slipped out. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" Proclaimed the voice of a female.

Upon hearing this voice, the leisurely walking Katarina picked up her pace to a sprint and rounded the corner. "Hey! Talon! Leave us the hell alone!" She roared at him as she held her dress down, looking to see Jarvan with his knife drawn. Just at that moment, Talon turned to face Katarina, scoffing and rotating his body back to Jarvan.

"Why does she look so exhausted... and pissed? Did you two... you know what, never mind. I'm not here to ask questions, I'm here for results." The imposter said in a still feminine voice, doing a rather feminine twirl and tossing the cloak aside, the body-build of Talon disappearing with it. This act revealed the feminine curves of a well endowed woman, one that Katarina seemed to fall back for a moment upon seeing.

"You're that harlot that Swain always was talking to off in the shadows, I suppose you're just another one of his puppets?" Katarina barked, her eyes beginning to search for a path to get to Jarvan. If she was important enough for Swain to converse with in private, then the chances were the at she posed some threat to the two of them.

The mysterious woman scoffed. "My name is Emilia LeBlanc, not whore! And last time I checked, I'm not the one who's dirty panties can be seen beneath my dress, you hussy." Emilia retorted, crossing her arms and spitting in her direction rather unladylike. Katarina spat in return. Now that LeBlanc no longer had her cloak on and her belt was very clearly visible, Katarina made a few quick bounds and reached Jarvan's side, standing firm at his side.

"Now, what the hell do you want, Emilia?" Jarvan said after a few moments. "Can't you just leave us in peace? You've gotten everything you wanted out of the way, why do you insist on harassing us?"

LeBlanc did a little twirl, giggling and turned her back to the two of them. "Nothing. Jericho just wants to send his condolences for your cooperation. Every obstacle has been cleared and he can begin his grand ascendance, and he has you to thank for it!" She stated giggling once more and beginning to walk off.

Katarina's mouth hung open as she stared at Emilia beginning her nonchalant walk away from the two of them. "A-all obstacles cleared... Jarvan? What does that mean?" She asked, turning to him, her eyes filling with sadness and her mind beginning to overflow with grief as well as confusion. The truth needed to come out, though.

Jarvan turned to Katarina upon placing his shiv back on the inside pocked of his coat, taking a step towards her and wrapping her arms around her. It didn't take a genius to tell what this gesture meant. Katarina's tears began to run from the corners of her eyes as they were quickly dried on the coat of her fiancee. "It's okay, Katarina. He's okay now." Jarvan whispered to her, watching as LeBlanc continued to leisurely walk through the courtyard, picking a rose before quickly disappearing. He shook his head, turning his attention back to his bride-to-be and kissing her forehead.

Upon feeling the prince's lips on her skin, Katarina picked her head up and looked Jarvan in the eyes. "You'll help me avenge him... won't you? I'll train your soldiers to combat Noxus, and we could go avenge my father. I'll do anything you tell me to do. Anything." She said, sniffling and trying to regain her composure.

Jarvan swallowed hard. He had a choice to make or a promise to make. Either deny Katarina the resource that she so desperately needed, manpower with the will to fight, or promise her the cooperation of his private forces. If he denied her, she might hold a grudge on him, and considering they were to be wed, he wasn't about to spend a couple decades married to a woman who hated him. And then, when he thought about promising her his cooperation... the cons weren't as severe.

Sure, they were risking starting a war, but when inevitably questioned by both states, Jarvan could present to them the letters that were written by Marcus, detailing the scheme fashioned by Jericho Swain, and apparently, this new character Emilia. That would obviously cause some trust issues in Noxus, which is exactly what Demacia would need to prepare an invasion and end this war, once and for all.

"Okay," Jarvan said, looking back down and into her eyes. "You have my full cooperation. Believe me when I say this, Katarina, we will avenge your mother and father." He finished, moving in to kiss her, but not before her body shot up for her lips to meet his. It surprised him somewhat, but he held her in place.

As their lips parted, she pushed herself away and licked her lips. "Thank you, Jarvan." She said with a faint smile, finding relief in the eyes of the man she'd soon share a name with.

"I love you, Jarvan." Katarina whispered, pressing her head into his chest as her tears no longer flowed.


	10. Masquerade, part 1

Days passed turned into weeks, weeks turned into months as the passage of time did not halt for the new Lightshield couple. Although time did not stop for them to catch up after the flurry of events that had disoriented the two of them, they were perfectly content with strolling forward together, hand in hand, behind the times. They were both living peaceful lives the way they wanted to live them, setting aside the expectations they were bound to that was set by their families and states. Their allegiances meant nothing at this point, within the white walls of the Lightshield estate, they were two normal people, living two normal lives, sharing in a normal love.

At first, Jarvan was unsure about it all. Being in an intimate relationship with a former enemy of Demacia might have wounded his ability to ascend to the throne smoothly. But his worries quickly disappeared as he watched his fiancee, Katarina Du Couteau, transition from a rigid and abrasive Noxian assassin, to a peaceful and cool-headed Demacian patrician. Though, in the prince's experience, she'd still held many of her hostile tendencies when she doesn't get her way, so that was avoided as much as possible.

However, they quickly reached an impasse, as Katarina grew extremely restless and eager to leave the home. Jarvan and Katarina both weren't foolish enough to strut on out on the main street of Demacia with her looking like she now was. Katarina would have been arrested in a heartbeat, and they couldn't have that.

And that brings us to our current chapter in this story.

* * *

The sun was retreating to the horizon. The chirping of the birds had fallen quiet as they returned to their nests, allowing the crickets to take their shift. All was calm, except for one particular voice that cut through the warm evening air.

"I SWEAR ON MY GRAVE, JARVAN, IF YOU TELL ME THAT I CAN'T LEAVE THE HOUSE AGAIN I AM GOING TO SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!" Katarina roared to her fiancé who stood in her path, baring her teeth like a rabid animal and with a superbly bothered look in her eyes. "You can't clip a cat's claws, prince!"

Jarvan rubbed the bridge of his nose and hung his head, thinking of exactly what he needed to say to Katarina to convince her that going out at this very moment wouldn't benefit either of them. However, there didn't seem to be a single route in which he could take to lead Katarina away from this situation.

Saying that he was in a tough spot would be an understatement. Although Katarina had become far more timid since her forced scenery change, her old attitude would sometimes "slip through the cracks" and bleed out into an argument she had with Jarvan, as few and far between as they were.

He shifted upon his feet and crossed his arms, looking back up and narrowing his eyes at Katarina. The prince had an idea that just might work, stepping forward and kissing Katarina gently upon her lips. "You cooled off yet?" Jarvan murmured, kissing her once more and setting a hand upon her shoulder.

Her face flushed, looking at the wooden floor beneath her and sighing. "Yes... I'm sorry for yelling at you, Jarvan. It wasn't my place to speak to you that way, not to the man who's preserved my life and given me a home." Katarina murmured, biting her cheek and stopping herself, hearing Jarvan gently hush her.

Jarvan wrapped his arms around her as she spoke. "Quiet now, Katarina. You don't need to apologize. I have a plan for us to get out of the house for a night."

Katarina perked up as he spoke. Finally, a chance to leave their home, even if it was just for a night. "And where would we go? Got some sort of designs for a fancy date to woo me, hm?" Katarina said, pushing herself up on the tips of her toes and kissing her fiancee. As their lips parted, she set herself back down on her feet and folded her hands behind her back sheepishly.

"There's a political function at the palace. I'm positive that you'll be able to attend it with me." Jarvan suggested, taking her hand as Katarina turned her head and pressed her soft cheek to his left breast. "If you don't want to attend it with me, then I won't be going either. I can take the heat if it means that you won't feel alone."

Katarina raised a brow and a certain, concerned, look burned in her eyes. "Me? At the palace? I trust you, but this is dangerous. Very dangerous. What if somebody sees my scar, or my hair?" She said, still keeping her cheek against Jarvan's chest as her arms wrapped around him.

Jarvan gave her words some thought, and as usual a solution was quickly found. "The lighting in the main hall and common area isn't up to par with the other areas of the palace. To boot, a majority of the invited guests will be gathered there."

"What's your point?" Katarina grumbled, holding her place, but continuing to lean into Jarvan's embrace.

"If you were to wear a veil of some sorts - black red or whatever you like - over your eyes it would almost be impossible for somebody to decipher who you really are." Jarvan suggested, pressing Katarina's head against his chest and sighing. "Besides, I think you'd look particularly beautiful behind a veil. Don't you think the same?"

"I suppose it'll do, as long as I get a chance to leave home." Katarina said in reply, pushing herself away from Jarvan and looking up at him with a faint smile. "You know, I'd look a lot prettier behind a white veil instead of a black one." She said oh so matter of factly, kissing Jarvan's chin and continuing to lean against him.

"I know, that day will come soon. Worry not, it will be here before you know it." Jarvan reassured her. "Now, go get dressed. We haven't much time until the sun begins to set, we'll be expected there at that time." He murmured, pushing her off gently until she tugged herself away.

"Yes, yes. I'll go get dressed, I don't suppose going out looking like _this _wouldn't do me any good." Katarina gestured down to her rather relaxed attire. Black fleece pants and a warm black cotton shirt, something she'd grown rather accustomed to wearing. "Wait for me here, dear. I won't be long." The assassin cooed, kissing her fiancee once before turning her back to him and scurrying off to their room.

It was the first time Katarina was going to leave the home she shared with the prince in well over a month or so. It seemed much longer to get, though. She was still given the opportunity to leave their home regularly and take a walk with Jarvan in the sanctuary, as he was at home with her most of the time. As much as she loved walking in the sanctuary with her groom-to-be, she longed to go elsewhere.

Katarina pushed the door of their bedroom open, quickly closing it behind her and giggling ecstatically. She immediately began rummaging through her closet, which had recently been overtaken by the assassin as she began sleeping in the same bed as Jarvan. She moved from side to side and dug as deep as she could in search of a dress right for this occasion, beginning to toss out dresses she deemed unworthy.

Finally, after a few minutes of searching, she emerged victorious with a long black dress. It was rather simple, probably considered inappropriate for attending such a prestigious gathering, but it's what suited Katarina's tastes and that's all that mattered.

She immediately began stripping off her clothing until she was only in her undergarments, running to her dresser and picking out some more appropriate "unmentionables". Of course, after a few minutes of rampant searching, she threw a set of stockings attached to a garter belt on the bed, knowing those would useful later that night should it take the course she desired. Afterwords, she found her favorite pair of lace underwear and the matching bra.

As she stripped down her unmentionables and began dressing herself, Jarvan entered the room, catching just a glimmer of a tuft of red hair that adorned Katarina's nether region. "D-dammit prince! Knock next time!" Katarina squealed, sheepishly covering her assets with her hands, as she turned her body away from Jarvan.

Jarvan chuckled, walking quickly to his desk and grabbing a stack of papers. "Calm down, I just needed these." He said, turning his head a bit to see Katarina's nude body. He couldn't help but smirk, knowing that he'd be able to get access to her supple body at any time he wants.

"Get the hell out." Katarina said with a snarl, grabbing the back of his shirt after darting forward and dragging him out of their bedroom. "Come back when I'm fully dressed, you pervy prince." She said, slamming the door and locking Jarvan out.

She turned back to the bed and began dressing herself, hearing the prince walk back down the hallway with a hearty session of laughter trailing it. Katarina began dressing quickly, slipping on her stockings and undergarments and garbing herself in the dress of her choice. After zipping up the back of the dress and tying the corset up, but found something to be missing. Her veil.

Back into her drawers she dove, searching into her accessory drawer for something suitable. It didn't take long for her to find something that was more than worthy for her to wear. A golden tiara with a black veil draping down from the front. It was more than long enough to hide her eyes and make her scar more or less invisible. And, much to Jarvan's enjoyment, her lips were still easily accessible.

She donned the tiara and fixed the veil over her eyes, smirking as she positioned herself in the mirror that stood next to the dresser. Katarina did a little twirl and chuckled. "I look good." The Noxian murmured.

All it took for her to be ready to leave for this function was a quick spurt of lavender perfume on her neck and her favorite – and only – pair of high-heels. Finally, all dolled up and the like, Katarina unlocked the door and proceeded out and into the hallway, taking a deep breath before descending the staircase to the main floor.

Jarvan's eyes were fixed on the door as a carriage arrived at the front gates, signaling for him to hurry up if they wished to arrive on time. He sighed, turning back to the staircase to behold his bride-to-be descending the flight of stairs. "Oh my." Jarvan murmured with a low laugh following it.

"What's so funny?" Katarina questioned with a smirk, landing on the floor and stepping forward to kiss Jarvan gently. She quickly noticed the carriage outside and the men who stood around it, ready to escort them into the city. "Come on, pervy prince, we have a party to get to." Katarina said, her voice ecstatic as she was finally able to get out of the house. She grabbed Jarvan's hand and began pulling him out of the house with a faint smile across her face as she drug him along.

Jarvan allowed her to drag him as far as she desired, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it before allowing her to continue. All the way to the carriage Katarina went, the prince stumbling not far behind her as she greeted the caravan guards who opened the door for her, gesturing to enter. She did so, nearly pulling Jarvan up and into the cab of their transport.

She smoothed out her dress and giggled as the door was closed behind Jarvan, giggling once more as the prince rubbed his wrists. "You don't have to be so damned aggressive, woman." He remarked, leaning over and kissing her cheek to cushion the albeit minor remark.

"Well, I'm sorry. I can't help but be excited that I'm finally going to leave home, even if it's just a bit. Besides, I'll get to meet your fellow nobleman, even if it's some of them used to be my targets." Katarina said with a chuckle, lifting her veil and kissing Jarvan before looking back out the window. "How long will it take for us to get to the city?" Katairna questioned, looking back to Jarvan and kissing his cheek once more.

"Not long. Just be patient, my dear." Jarvan said, hiding away that he was going to tell her the round trip was about two hours.

* * *

_In the interest of time, I've decided to omit this section, finding it to be more or less pointless. Nothing interesting occurred or was discussed._

* * *

Katarina was jarred awake from the rapid shaking of her shoulder. "Wake up, woman. We're here." Jarvan's voice echoed in her mind. She set herself up, rubbing her eyes before quickly flipping her veil back down to hide her eyes. Jarvan was correct, it was awful dark already, and it didn't seem like the lighting was very good anywhere in the courtyard, so they'd have to linger there.

Katarina pushed herself to her feet, yawned and unlatched the carriage door, swinging it open and looking up at the Demacian palace. It was just as big as she remembered the scouts drawings of it, but she'd never seen it in person. "Wow..." She whispered, taken up by the beauty of the structure. Even if she was Noxian, her new Demacian sentiment and tolerance made her realize the true beauty of the city.

Jarvan stood up, not having anything to say, jumped out of the cab, turning around and offering a hand for Katarina to take. She noticed his hand and took it, descending gracefully until she stood firmly on her own two feet. A quick stretch is all it took for Katarina to regain her composure, standing as high as she could upon noticing all the noblemen with their wives conversing in groups in the courtyard.

"My son, you've come!" A voice rang out from the side as a man striking similar to Jarvan approached, laughing and giving the prince a hug. "It's wonderful to see you! … and who is this young woman? I thought you would have come with Quinn."

"It's great to see you as well, father." Katarina froze in place and hey eyes opened up wide as Jarvan greeted the man she could only assume was his father, King Jarvan Lightshield the Third. She had just assumed that "son" was a term of endearment between Jarvan and this gentleman, but it seems as if that was not the case. She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and beginning to search for an answer to his question. "This is my fiancé." Jarvan gestured to Katarina who still stood, awestruck that she was in this situation.

"Does she have a name?" Jarvan's father chuckled, looking over to Katarina and smiling. "I merely pick fun, my dear. I am Jarvan the Third. It's a pleasure to meet you. Might I know your name?" Jarvan III held his hand out to Katarina to start a handshake.

Katarina thought for a few moments, before concluding what she would say. She put her hand out and shook the king's hand.

"Katherine." She replied, simply.


	11. Masquerade, part 2

The warm spring air swept through the courtyard of the royal palace, rustling the trees and blooming rose bushes as caravans of guests arrived at the gates. There was a celebration being held that day to commemorate the triumphant return of a handful of Demacian generals who were leading presumably failed campaigns in the east. The sun had set rather early that day, casting the shadow upon the expansive courtyard of the royal palace. The only lighting available in the courtyard was the lampposts who's kindles were lit and burned brightly and proudly, drawing energy from the ecstatic group of soldiers and nobility that were gathered in the courtyard.

All noble families were accounted for. Most members of House Buvelle lingered off to the side, Sona Buvelle playing a light tune that carried well on the spring air, bringing an even more lively atmosphere to the assemblage. House Laurent was surrounded by a group of extremely uninterested patrons, sipping... _gulping_ down their wine as Fiora and her father boasted and quarreled over who was the better of the two in a duel, as they often did.

The members of the Vayne family hid themselves out of the way, wishing not to speak to anyone, merely conversing amongst each other and occasionally chuckling. They weren't as social as the other houses, and that was clear by their demeanor and actions. In addition to that, House Spiritmight was completely absent from the gathering. That family was even more so a mystery than House Vayne was.

House Crownguard was conversing with the matriarch of the current royal family, Lightshield, as the patriarch and king, Jarvan Lightshield the Third, had wandered off to greet his son and his mysterious female companion as they arrived.

And that brings us to the reiteration of the grand tale of the abrasive Noxian assassin and benevolent Demacian prince.

* * *

Jarvan the third narrowed his eyes, but tried his damnedest to hide any other sides of suspicion. This 'Katherine' character, she seemed a bit off. It's not often that the Crown Prince of Demacia just shows up with some, rather dashing, woman that is known by literally nobody but him. … well, they know of her, just not under this alias.

"Aha. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Katherine." The king said with a warm smile, his attempts at suppressing his suspicion being successful, at least to him. "My son, a word please." He said, tuning his head to Jarvan as he spoke. _"Now."_ He demanded in a far more imprudent tone.

Jarvan grit his teeth and released Katarina's hand reluctantly, giving her a slightly concerned look. However, Katarina didn't seem concerned in the least. She wasn't afraid of whatever was to come, as she knew Jarvan would get her out of whatever trouble she got herself into. "Of course, father." He said, stepping off to the side as the king did as well.

Jarvan III pulled his son back and gripped his arm, his elated expression before now disappearing. "Who is she?" His voice was nearly a whisper, carrying clearly on the air and biting the prince's ears as it reached him.

"She's my lover." Jarvan answered rather plainly, shaking off his father's hand and giving Katarina a smile as she crossed her arms, impatiently waiting for her fiancee to return to her side.

"Your lover, huh? Right." Jarvan III spat at his son, turning back to his wife as she conversed with a handful of the Crownguard family members. "You know, Luxanna, Fiora and Sona aren't going to like hearing this. That ranger, Quinn, as well. They all had their eyes out for you." He pointed out, not turning his head to his son.

"I'm sure they'll be upset, father." Jarvan IV said bluntly, starting off back in the direction of Katarina, who was not tapping her foot impatiently as Jarvan was taking more time up than she had wanted him to. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my love is waiting for me." He said, taking a couple short steps to regain his smile, banishing that conversation from his memory, and returning to Katarina's side.

The king scoffed, rubbing the scruff that enthralled his chin. He didn't have a lot to say to his son, even though he was highly suspicious of this new girl who's shown up out of the blue. However, the more the king thought about this strange girl, the more concerned he grew for the safety of his son. A deep sigh escaped from between his once tightly closed lips, unfurling his brows and returning to his wife, joining in the timid conversation she was having with the heads of House Crownguard, discussing mundane affairs such as politics.

"What did he want with you?" Katarina murmured to Jarvan, kissing his cheek and taking his hand before she could speak. She was taking deep breaths, for some reason.

"Nothing, he needed some documents sent to his desk, that's all." Jarvan replied, returning her kiss and starting to walk down the cobblestone paved path that led to the main hall, keeping his eyes away from the other nobility. He instead shifted his eyes to Katarina who had an oddly anxious expression. "... what's wrong? He didn't say anything compromising about you, if that's what you're so concerned about."

Katarina glared at him. "That's not it." She discounted, tuning her head slightly away from Jarvan, taking and clenching his hand as they walked along at a steady pace.

"That's it, isn't it?"Jarvan mumbled, squeezing her hand in his and closing his eyes, but for a moment before opening them to find Katarina had jumped around in front of him, her lips now crashed against his.

As they parted, Jarvan cleared his throat and set his hands on Katarina's shoulders. "Please, dear, don't be so concerned. I'll see to it that we'll make it through this together." He whispered, moving his hands down to her hips as she turned a cheek to him, falling forward a bit and pressing the side of her head to his chest.

"I'm scared." She mumbled. It was something that Jarvan never would have imagined, not in his wildest dreams, that she'd say. Katarina prided herself on being unflinching and ruthless, which made her such a respected and feared assassin. But now that she was away from the sight of peering eyes, the standards she'd set herself to crumbled. Katarina Du Couteau... _Katherine_ _Lightshield _was but a normal woman now.

Jarvan raised a hand and cupped the cheek opposite to the one pressed to his chest, kissing her forehead and rubbing her hips gently. "Katarina, let me assure you now, nobody is going to stand in our path. If it means that I must concede my claim to the throne and end the Lightshield era, then so be it. I made a promise to your father that you'd be happy and safe." He continued, once again kissing her forehead before beginning to speak once more. "If we can't be happy in Demacia, if they shun our love, then we simply won't stay here. I'll go wherever I have to go for us to be together." He finished, just as Katarina pushed herself back and looked into his eyes.

The assassin's hazel orbs and bone-chilling stare cut through the darkness of the courtyard and the area fell silent for the two of them. Many of the patrons' eyes were on them, seeing the crown prince consoling such a beautiful woman drawing their attention very quickly. "They're all looking at us, Jarvan." Katarina whispered, her face flushing as she continued to stare into his eyes.

"You better do something to make all this worth their time." She continued with a faint smile, winking sultrily.

Jarvan smiled, knowing exactly what would reward the crowd for their attention. He took a deep breath, moving his right foot backwards a few inches and began to shift himself to sit upon his right knee. He'd never given Katarina a formal marriage proposal, but now was his time to do just that. All eyes were on them, and his opportunity to profess his utmost respect and love for her was now.

His voice was low as he began to speak, raising his right hand to take Katarina's left, squeezing it to make sure he had her full attention. Needless to say, Jarvan had secured her attention. "Katarina, it's been about a month now since you were delivered from chaos and into my arms. Though, the first few days were filled with emotional turmoil and some of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make in my entire life, my mind is set on one goal."

Katarina's eyes had already begun to tear, squeezing his hand and keeping her voice as quiet as she could manage, which became an increasingly strenuous task.

"That's why, in this moment, in the eyes of those who raised and taught me to fight your people and lead my own with an equal amount of zeal, I ask for your hand in marriage. To defy the hatred for each other that has persisted for generations. Do you accept, Katarina Du Couteau?" He finished, his voice climbing as he spoke, but dipping back down as he spoke her true full name.

Katarina's heart began to beat like a drum as Jarvan finished speaking, her hand beginning to shake as a single tear ran down her cheek before raising her free hand to wipe the tear away. Slowly, her head began to bob up and down, sniffling and pulling Jarvan back up to his feet. "Yes, my prince, I will marry you." The Noxian said in a normal volume, her voice projecting across the quiet courtyard.

As their lips were slowly pressed together, the courtyard went up in applause. Every patron, every family, every guard and soldier, even the prince's parents, they all were cheering. Cheering in the name of the heir, Demacia, and the to-be royal couple.

However, from the roaring crowd that had gathered around the two of them, emerged Jarvan's father and mother. They stopped applauding, but their excited expressions remained. Jarvan III turned his head to the two of them after giving his queen a gentle kiss. "Family tradition demands that within the week that the crown prince is engaged, they must take the throne." He finished, setting his hands on the crown that adorned his head, adjusting it.

A chill ran up Jarvan's spine as he heard these words. The tradition... he had forgotten. They couldn't hide this from his people, but they couldn't afford to dethrone a Lightshield; their era had brought far too much peace to the land. Ending that would be tragic.

"Yes, I suppose it is time for us to pass the torch. Make us proud like we know that you will, my son." Jarvan's mother stated, squeezing her husband's hand.

The prince noticed Katarina nuzzle her head into his neck, closing her eyes and kissing on his skin. "I suppose it's time to fulfill my promise to your father," He whispered, returning her gentle kisses upon her forehead.

"My love, my wife, my queen."


	12. Crowning

Jarvan let loose a heavy sigh as he felt the weight of steel fall on his shoulders, the few clicks of straps being fitted into place following it. Truly, he did not want to be in the place he was at that particular moment, as he was without the woman he wished to be with and not in the home that he shared with her.

However, this woman, Katarina, was also in a similar situation.

"Lady Katherine," A handmaiden spoke as she entered the room where Katarina was sitting. Katarina was reading up on Demacian traditions; trying to make it seem as if she'd lived here her entire life instead of having only been a resident of the state for a few months. "Your dress has arrived. It's been crafted to meet all your preferences."

Katarina was spurred from her trance of thought, quickly closing the book after throwing the mark into the margin, looking up and cracking a faint smile. "Thank you, Ola." She said. "Eh, where is it?" Katarina added before Ola had stepped out of the room, turning her head and raising a brow.

Ola smiled, closed her eyes and tilted her head back for a moment. "I believe I might have left it at the seamstress... heh..." She quickly snapped back into her normal composed self and flattened out her dress, bowing before Katarina. "Sincerest apologies, my lady. To have left your dress at the store that fashioned it on the second most important day of your life... what a fool of a woman I am!" She said, still smiling. "I shall return within the hour after I check on Kin- _Prince Jarvan_ IV and retrieve your dress." Ola cooed, turning her back to Katarina and running out of the room, holding her dress up as she nearly sprinted down the hall.

"That girl..." Katarina snickered, looking back to her book and opening it once more.

She'd had a lot of time to think over the past four days. Not three months ago she would have slapped that peasant-servant silly for forgetting such a thing, and yet, here she was simply pardoning such an offense. It was truly a testament to how much she'd changed over the past months. A personality about face, if you would. From a cruel, crude and coarse assassin to a fair, noble and benignant lover to the Crown Prince of Demacia.

And with those thoughts came both relief and sadness. She missed her family like no other, that was a truth that would stay with her for all of her days. Her sister, Cassiopeia, who's whereabouts are unknown, only to be presumed as dead to her. Although she wasn't sisterly in particular to Cassiopeia, often treating her more like a serf than a sibling, Katarina still loved her.

And then her father Marcus, a great man who treated his family fairly and would do anything to protect them. This was a philosophy that Katarina thought was foolhardy at first. Family above power was preposterous to her, as she grew up with the Noxian bloodthirsty attitude that had been forced into her mind since the day she could hold a dagger.

At that very moment, Katarina paused reading, throwing the bookmark into place and shutting the customs manual. No, that philosophy wasn't forced into her mind at that time. She was reeducated after she saw the gruesome assassination of her mother. There still wasn't a lot that she knew, but what was beginning to reenter her memory was all shocking.

Clarity was all that Katarina sought as she began to scour her memories, some of them new, some of them as old as she was. Everything that was recorded in her mental ledger. Ages 1 to 9 were all very vivid and happy, but were occasionally filled with disdain as her mother slowly fell from grace as she was driven from sanity. They brought a very simple smile to her face, but it quickly disappeared as a dead zone formed a break in her memory.

The year that she turned 9, the year that her mother as assassinated, was completely a blur. Katarina could easily account the months leading up to her death, but the rest was... gone. The memories that were in its place did not feature her mother, or father, or sister. Just darkness and a set of blades. Images began flashing before her eyes. Embedded images of gore, war, violence incarnate.

These weren't her memories, that was clear to her. What is real? Is this too a lie? She thought to herself as her eyes slid shut, taking deep and well-formed breaths, holding her composure. The more she thought about it, the less she truly cared about being brainwashed by Noxus. She wasn't there now, she no longer served their vile bidding and had determined that this was the place she truly wanted to be. In the arms of a man who loves and had pledged to protect her, a promise not many Noxian men would make.

Before she could continue thinking, her eyes shot open as the door opened slowly behind her, a firm voice being heard afterwords. Her heart was warmed upon hearing this voice.

"Are you ready, Katarina? The ceremony is soon." Jarvan said, stepping into the room and approaching Katarina who was relaxing her shoulders and enjoying the sound of him saying her name. "You're not ready yet?" He snapped at her, tapping on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the back of her neck. "You better be on time... I'll stay just to make sure you're ready." He cooed.

Katarina sprang from her seat, turning around and readying an apology for Jarvan. Today was important for the both of them, and she'd neglected to prepare herself. But, as she looked up to apologize to him, she instead stood awestruck as she shined in the light that shone through the window.

Jarvan now stood before her in a set of shining armor. She reached out and pressed her hand against the silver of his breastplate, running it down and feeling every eloquent detail. It fit his frame perfectly, accentuating his masculine features and giving him an aura of awe striking brilliance. He wore no crown, however, and the back of his hair was trimmed slightly, but his onyx locks still flowed magnificently.

(It's hard to describe this. Forgive my incompetence, readers. If this is too vague, think: Victorious Jarvan.)

Katarina took a deep breath, seeing Jarvan smile down on her. "Well, you look handsome." She said, turning a cheek to him and pressing it against his chest. Although she couldn't hear his heart beating, as she usually could, the track played in her mind, soothing her soul like the gentle crashing of the ocean's waves.

"That's not for me to judge." Katarina pushed herself away as he spoke, looking back up and into his eyes. His blue orbs seemed to shine like the marvelous waves of the sea, which was obviously not a common trait with the foolhardy, violent men of Noxus. "Oh, and I suppose you missed your dress. It's hanging by the mirror," Jarvan raised his hand, which was encased in an intricately designed gauntlet, pointing to a standing mirror in the corner of the room. "I suppose your handmaiden forgot that she brought it with her."

Katarina smiled, looking down and turning to the mirror, observing the dress which was hung on one of the supports. An astonishing white sleeveless dress that had a particularly surreal sheen. The bust was measured to fit hers, and the corset looked like it was correctly proportioned to fit that. The collar was with genuine golden leaf, as was the royal blue shawl that accentuated the dress. To fit the rest of it, there was her circlet-veil combination that hid her scar and a pair of white gloves and slippers.

"I know that girl was forgetful, but this is ridiculous..." Katarina said with a giggle, pushing the prince away as she took a few steps to the mirror. "Look away, you pervert. We've done this before." She added as she began to pull off the black cotton tunic that she'd been wearing. Her plump breasts spilled out from beneath it as it made its way over her head, making the prince wince as he found a reservoir or will to battle his perversion, looking away quickly and avoiding looking back.

Quickly Katarina changed into the dress, taking care not to pull the strings of the corset too hard as she tied it before putting on the rest of the dress. Slowly, she began to look more and more like a queen. Of course, that was the reason they were there that day. She was cooped up in the changing room of the palace, preparing for the crowning ceremony for Jarvan and, of course, Katarina. The two weren't even married, and here they were preparing to be crowned king and queen.

Their most personal belongings had been moved from Jarvan's estate as the former king and queen ready to move out and into a lesser settlement. Of course, there was a lot that Katarina would miss about their old home. It was just right for the two of them to live in, but they couldn't stay there forever, especially as they crawled closer to the day that they would be crowned the next grade of royalty in Demacia.

As Katarina draped the blue and golden shawl around her shoulders and let it slide down, letting it settle into her elbow pits to keep it in place. She donned her circlet-veil and slipped on the matching slippers, turning back to Jarvan and smiling. "Demacia is waiting on us, prince. Let's not keep them too long." She cooed, pulling on the pair of elbow-high gloves, taking Jarvan's hand and beginning to pull him out and into the hallway.

They weaved through the innumerable hallways of the palace, Jarvan's overseers egging him on to hurry as they grew in numbers behind him. It didn't take very long, between Katarina's rather eager pulling and Jarvan's overseers chasing them, arriving on time was no longer an issue. They spilled out and into the courtyard, Jarvan regaining his balance and looking out at the field.

He was so used to seeing it empty, and yet, here stood every noble Demacian and about as many citizens as they could afford to admit onto the premises. They all stood, silent for the most part, patiently awaiting the crowning of their new leaders. They would not have to wait long, however, as a "stage director" took Jarvan and Katarina and put them in place on a platform set in front of the crowd.

They now stood together, hand in hand, looking over the crowd in awe at their numbers. Katarina swallowed hard and squeezed Jarvan's hand, not expecting such a massive crowd to attend the ceremony. But as momentous as this was, she should have expected it.

After a few deep breaths, footsteps were heard behind them, as the current royal couple took a stand and set themselves next to them.

"Your attention please, citizens and nobles." Jarvan III said, taking a deep breath. "I appreciate everyone's coming to my home today for the crowning of a new generation in the Lightshield dynasty. It's been a much-anticipated event for the Queen and I, and we've never been more proud than we are now." Jarvan III stated, turning his body with his wife's. Jarvan IV and Katarina noticed this motion, doing the same with their bodies as well, still standing tall and clenching each others hands.

"Prince Jarvan the Fourth, you've proven yourself on the field of both battle and politics as a worthy and venerable leader. Through this, you've made your mother and I inexplicably proud. Your prowess in battle has struck fear in the heart of many a Noxian, and inspired courage in the heart of your warriors." Jarvan III took a deep breath. "We've deemed you worthy to take the throne with your recently betrothed. Do you accept?"

The prince glanced to Katarina for a moment, not turning his head, said in perfect unison: "We accept this honor, your majesty."

Jarvan III nodded, clearing his throat before adjusting his footing. "Wonderful. Kneel."

They did as were ordered, both kneeling upon one knee and bowing their heads instinctively, just as Jarvan III took a step forward and removed the silver, jeweled crown from his head.

He positioned himself in front of his knelt son, looking down on him with a smile. "Raise your head, my son." He said clearly. Jarvan did as was told, raising his head until it was level. At that moment, Jarvan III turned the crown until the most brilliant gem was in his sight.

Slowly, he lowered the crown until it met his onyx hair, releasing it gently on the sides and letting it settle itself on his head. Fit for a king, it was, as it settled perfectly on his head.

Jarvan III took a step back and set his hands behind his back. "Rise, Jarvan the Fourth, King and Exemplar of Demacia." He said clearly, his voice barreling through the calm courtyard. At that moment, just as the two had rehearsed earlier that day, Jarvan's mother stepped forward and removed her crown, handing it to Jarvan.

"Crown your queen, Jarvan." His mother whispered with a timid smile that always lifted his spirits. Jarvan took a stand and opened his eyes. The world had a new kind of light to it, as if now he had an ulterior reason to lead. No longer did he have to live with the concealed mentality that he was a martyr for his people. He was their leader, not just another general.

"Thank you, mother." He replied, taking the golden and ruby encrusted tiara from his mother, turning and positioning himself before Katarina.

Katarina's heart was pounding like a drum as she saw Jarvan's shining boots land before her, instinctively raising her head just as Jarvan did. "Remove your veil, my lady." He said, and Katarina did, removing the tiara but keeping her head in a lowish place to hide scar. And lower the tiara went until it met Katarina's crimson hair. It sat just as well on her head as it did with the former Queen.

"Rise, Katarina, my Queen." Jarvan said, offering a hand for her to take as she stood herself up. The former king and queen stood in awe upon hearing 'Katarina'. They knew exactly who she was. Katarina turned to the crowded courtyard that stood in shock, just as Jarvan III and his wife did. They looked as if they could burst out rage at any moment and lynch the Noxian, but instead intimidatingly stood.

"At ease, my subjects. Allow me to explain." Jarvan said, taking a deep breath. "This is Katherine, or more formally, Katarina Du Couteau, a former Noxian. I have shielded this woman from a torrential rain that has brewed within Noxus, and will continue to do so whether you rebel against our union or not." He looked as stoic as ever as he spoke out at the crowd, gripping Katarina's hand tightly as she now stood shoulder to shoulder with him, nearly hugging his arm.

"What I have done is an act of selflessness, and it just so happens that over the course of protecting her, I have fallen in love. This could not be stopped, and I did not wish to stop it. For the better part of a month, I have spent my days and nights at my estate, comforting her, as she so desperately needed to be comforted. She's lost everything and everyone she's ever held dear to her. I no longer look at her with a grimace, but a smile, as her smile brings me inexplicable joy." He paused to take a few breaths, watching as the crowd shifted, but seemed less intimidating.

"I ask of you today, my people, that you accept her. For I, your king and exemplar, have accepted this woman into my heart and arms. Follow me as this new iteration of the Lightshield Dynasty brings with it an era of peace and acceptance." He paused for the last time. "If you support this regime, then step forward and cheer in the name of the Queen. If you do not, then there will be no penalty." The king concluded his speech, turning his head to Katarina, who seemed to be tearing up upon hearing his speech.

Jarvan tuned Katarina's body to the side and stood parallel to her holding his hands on her hips as she rested hers on his shoulders. Their sides were now clearly visible to the crowd, their peering eyes watching as Jarvan leaned forward, pressing his lips to Katarina's. At that moment, the Crownguard family stepped out from the crowd and began cheering in the name of the King and Queen. Gradually, every family royal family joined in, even House Vayne and Spiritmight.

Then, the crowd began roaring, applauding and chanting in the name of the Lightshield-Couteau regime. Showing such grace to somebody who was formerly an enemy of the state was unheard of, and did not go unnoticed by the public. The chants could be heard anywhere in the streets, drawing people from their homes to join in.

However, there were two hooded men to the side of the assembly, observing the completed ceremony with curiosity.

* * *

"Should we stop it...? It seems like an opportune time, Haggard." One said to the other, turning his head to the side and glancing to his companion.

"Patience, Squall." Haggard replied. He did an about-face and looked off at the city. "We should report back to Jericho. He should know about this."

* * *

Back at the courtyard, the crowd was as loud as ever, as Katarina parted lips with her king, looking into his eyes as a few tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. "Thank you, my keeper, my lover, my king." She cooed, placing a kiss upon his lips, lowering her head and nuzzling it into Jarvan's neck.

"Of course, my angel, my light, my queen."


	13. A New Age, part 1

A few hours had passed since the crowning ceremony of Jarvan Lightshield(-Couteau) the Fourth and Katarina Lightshield(-Couteau). All was rather calm in the city now, the celebrations had begun in the numerous thriving taverns across the city, this occasion bringing the excuse to many a drunkard to sate their thirsts before the sun had fallen beneath the horizon.

The courtyard was now clear and the palace fell silent, the applause that had torn through the air as Jarvan delivered his winning speech that inspired hope for the future. The guards were sharing drinks in the barracks and the chefs, servants, proctors

However, not all was festive and jovial.

The former king and new king - father and son - former queen and new queen, sat in a lone room in the uppermost floor of the palace. They were congregating in order to gain knowledge and context on the situation that had sent Jarvan's family into an emotional tailspin. Although their feelings were, for the most part, hidden during the crowning ceremony when "Katherine" was revealed to be Katarina Du Couteau, they couldn't be concealed for much longer.

All of them sat down at a round table. No guards, no proctors to ensure the talk was peaceful, just the four of them and their words at the highest point in the city. Everything was quiet at the start, each of them exchanging formalities and taking their seats.

"It's a pleasure to finally sit down with you, Lady Alexandra. Needless to say I've watched your family from afar many a time before." Katarina jested, able to illicit a giggle from the both of them.

"Oh-ho, indeed Katarina. I remember sitting down with your mother for tea a few times; Katherine never cared much for the conflicts of your people, although your father held such an important position in your nation. Frankly I respected that, and I wish you and your mother had defected like she spoke so much about."

"Defecting? That's certainly an interesting thing for my mother to think about. She loved Noxus." Katarina said, tilting her head to the side and beginning to think.

"Oh no no my dear, quite the opposite. She despised Noxus and everything that it stood for, saying that she'd rather move to the Freljord than be forced to raise her children in such a corrosive environment. From what I remember, the only thing she that kept her from collecting you children and defecting was some sort of research that she couldn't afford to halt. She looked awfully shaky back then, it genuinely concerned me, but I never got the courage to ask her what this investigation was about or what was bothering her." Alexandra replied, shrugging and placing her hands in her lap. And just before Katarina could reply with a barrage of questions as her curiosity spiked, the quiet Jarvan III interrupted her.

"What in the great blazes of oblivion brought you to care for this... Noxian filth!" Cried Jarvan III at the top of his lungs, his growling voice spilling out of the room he and his son occupied and echoing through the halls.

"F-filth?! Excuse me?!" Katarina said, taken aback by the former king's sudden aggression.

"Husband, watch your tongue, they are our successors, let us not run them off with your short mindedness!" Alexandra said, nearly rearing back her hand to slap her husband. In total truth, Alexandra respected Katarina very much, not just because she is the new queen, but also because she was capable of changing Jarvan's view on Noxians.

Jarvan IV took a stand from his seated position, raising his fist to his father and clenching it intimidatingly. "Watch your tongue! You may be my father and a _former _king, but that does not permit such an attitude. All the more reason to treat this situation civilly! What's done is done, why can't you accept this?" He replied, his voice raspy from hours of yelling. He felt Katarina's hands on the back of his suit, attempting to tug him down, to no avail as Jarvan III jumped from his seated position.

"You are a DISGRACE!" Jarvan III roared, nearly spitting at his son from across the table. "You sympathize with a Noxian, harbor her, bed her, and now you've brought her into the royal family! ARE YOU MAD? This isn't the way we raised you, Jarvan! To show such kindness and mercy to someone who would show you neither, a Noxian no less!"

"Father. You call me a disgrace, and yet here you stand, insulting a woman who's lost everything she's ever held dear to her. Her bonds were written in blood, and she was forced to split them so that she could live on. I stand here as a testament of tolerance, forgiveness and acceptance. If you do not wish to be a part of this new era, then you may leave. In fact..."

"Both of you, that's enough." Katarina interjected, standing up and staring the king's father in his eyes, her hazel orbs looking right through him. "You are to leave this instant and never return. If you cannot accept that the passage of time demands a new set of ideals and the goal of piece and unification, then you have no place in our land." Katarina adjusted her sight to Alexandra. "You are to stay as my private consultant. If you do not agree with my ruling, then both of you may go, and never return.."

"You vile woman..." Jarvan III said, standing himself up and spitting in her direction, turning his back to the two of them and starting off towards the door that led away from them.

Before Jarvan III gained too much distance from the group, the king spoke up once more. "You know, grandfather risked his life to save our dynasty's steward, Xin Zhao, the man who helped you lead this land. You fail to honor that risk by declaring Katarina unworthy of my time and effort. I digress. When she was sent to me by her father, I knew full well that he was not being asking me to be her keeper as a Noxian. He was asking me as a father. I know full well that you would do just the same if we were put into a similar situation." Jarvan said in the calmest tone he could muster, however his voice still trembled with rage. "That is all. Get out of my sight." Jarvan finished bitterly, turning his back to his parents and looking out on Demacia.

Alexandra shook her head and lagged behind her husband, disappointed beyond belief at his actions. Katarina too looked away from them, approaching Jarvan and chaining her arms around one of his, her forehead pressed against his shoulder with eyes closed. "I can't believe _that _led your people through the war..." She mumbled, standing on the tips of her toes and kissing Jarvan's neck.

He didn't respond for a while, merely looked out at the cascade of white, the city's numerous, towering, marble constructs nearly blinding him, yet he couldn't look away. As his queen's cool lips were felt on his skin, he was shoved from his trance, a smile now spanning his lips. "Yes, I didn't think he had it in him to yell at his successors in such a way, but I suppose I was wrong. With the hope that he will not be returning to interrupt us, I suppose we should join the festivities below us. It would be a shame for everyone to be having such a wondrous time without us, don't you agree? It's the start of the rest of our lives, let us enjoy it with those who serve us so willingly."

"Of course, my king. It truly would be a shame. Let's not keep them waiting." Katarina cooed, grabbing his hand and beginning to drag him towards the door.

* * *

I've decided to divvy this into two parts to accomplish two things: Save me a bit of time and grief with constructing one big chapter and; allow myself a bit of a 'cooldown' period. I have a couple other things going on having to deal with a different series and a private request, as well as a lot of real life issues that may shorten my time to write in the future. My health and financial situation are currently compromised, so please bare with me.


	14. Uprising

As Demacia revered in the new era that was ushered in by who some of the 'nonbelievers' call the "Traitor-King, Jarvan IV", things weren't so festive in their rival nation.

Every minute, courier eagles arrived at their posts, each of them carrying the same message that was to be delivered to every major news outlet in Valoran. Katarina Du Couteau was alive, and now in a position of ultimate power as the Queen of Demacia. This had sent Noxus into revolt, as those who looked up to the Couteau family as an icon of Noxian might became suspicious.

A few weeks prior to that day, a funeral was conducted for Marcus Du Couteau and his lapdog, Talon. However, they weren't the only two being buried. There was a closed casket ceremony for Katarina, giving the excuse "It's not what she and her father would have wanted". That was a lie, nothing more, nothing less. The two who were Couteau family members by blood were buried together, next to the matriarch Katherine. No tears were shed, as Marcus was a particularly vile man, as was Talon. Katarina to an extent, as well. However, in secret, a group mourned the loss.

The rings of bandits and assassins who served under Marcus were the first to become suspicious of Marcus' sudden death, and only became more suspicious as a group of questionable gentlemen approached them one day and offered them a position in the Black Rose, to conduct espionage within the ranks of the High Command, as well as the Noxian military, as many of the men had ties to both groups.

In secret, they all agreed to join them, but would remain loyal to Katarina and the sacrifices she and her family had made. Assassins, thieves, soldiers, lone wolves, all of them now loyal to one woman, one family, one traitor.

And now, Katarina Lightshield-Couteau, "The Red Queen of Demacia", has successfully split Noxus into three parts, each one beginning to war against one another. The loyalists and populous, High Command and the military, and the Black Rose. And with every passing minute, the torrent only grows in strength.

* * *

Yet another courier pigeon arrived in Noxus, this time at one of the biggest news outlets in Noxus. In minutes, the message was picked from around it's feathered neck, and within minutes, to the paper presses it went. Paper after paper, flier after flier nearly flew out of the business as hundreds upon hundreds of citizens flooded the streets, chanting the name of the Noxian poster child, Katarina Du Couteau.

"She lives!" They roared. "She lives, the red queen lives!"

The mobs traversed the streets, bestirred by the news of Katarina's return. The once calm air of Noxus quickly became polluted by the cries and roars of the outraged and enthralled mobs. Together they marched towards the High Council building, taking but a few moments for them to reach the now heavily guarded gates. The ramparts of the property was lined with guards, keeping watch while others pushed them away from the gates as the High Command argued inside the black walls of the building.

"You're a fool, Sheratan! A person of such high importance doesn't just... turn up dead, and then is revived in the west!" A High Command member, by the name of Caus, argued with another. The strife on the streets gradually began to grow into the sweltering heat of the meeting room.

Sheratan laughed nearly hysterically, beads of sweat running down his forehead. "W-well, you know, people turning up dead for no reason is kind of what the Couteau family does." He joked, leaning his elbows onto the round table in front of him and staring at it's wooden surface, his fingers tangled within his hair.

"Jest so lightly in a time of crisis? You're just as immature as I always thought you were, Sheratan!" Interrupted a third, his name being Artorigus. "Now, if the both of you dolts are done bickered, we need to do something! Half of Noxus is outside our gates, and you idiots are in here arguing like two upset children!" Artorigus roared, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead as a clank against the black tile floors was heard in a corridor just behind them. They turned to face this noise, and saluted upon seeing who it was.

"Lord Darkwill?" Artorigus questioned, turning to face him and releasing a heavy sigh. It was, in fact, Keiran Darkwill, but he was not alone. Behind him was Jericho Swain, walking slowly as he leaned on his cane, his mask covering the precariously evil smile that lay behind it. "L-lord Darkwill! Thank you for coming, we desperately need your assistance right now. The citizens are restless, Katarina Du Couteau is alive... everything is falling apart at the seams right now. What do we do?" Artorigus' hysterical tone had made the other two men in the room rather uncomfortable, but remained silent, awaiting Keiran's reply.

"_I _will do nothing." Darkwill stated, folding his hands behind his back as he turned his head to cough, a trickle of blood falling from the corner of his mouth as he did so. "What...?" He mumbled, wiping away the blood and staring at it in a daze.

Swain stepped forward, setting his free hand behind his back and grasping at something behind him, as well as giving a sort of hand signal to the shadows behind him. "After a long conversation between 'Lord' Darkwill and I, I've determined that he is no longer fit to lead Noxus, especially in these trying times." Swain said, his smirk still hidden by the olive cloth.

"Jericho... what are you talking about? What conversation? We had no such thing!" Darkwill said, more blood falling from the corner of his mouth as he raised a finger after turning to face the tactician. "You are a liar! A scoundrel!" He continued his ranting, but was silenced by the rasp of a blade leaving it's sheath.

Before Darkwill had time to turn his head, a man darted from the shadows, as agile as a panther and as fierce as one. Through the air he leaped, a dagger going airborne in the process and performing a flip of sorts, landing in the man's hand with the blade facing Darkwill. The serrated dagger penetrated the left eye socket of Darkwill, piercing cleanly and issuing him a quick death.

The assassin landed on top of Darkwill, his weapon still hilt-deep in his skull as he looked down on the now lifeless High General. The blood began to pool as the blade pierced Keiran's skull through and through. He quickly jerked the blade out of his victim, putting the blade to the man's neck and cutting him ear to ear, slicing his jugular vein in the process and causing even more blood to flow onto the floor.

"Oh... Mountain, did you have to make it so needlessly messy... this is going to be so much to clean up now! One stab would have been enough!" Swain exclaimed, shaking his head in disdain as the pool of crimson expanded to around his boots. "That aside... with Keiran... "our of commission", I will be taking his place. If you have any objections to this overcoming, my associate would be more than happy to discard of you as well."

Artorigus, Sheratan and Caus swallowed and shook their heads. "No... High General. We swear our fealty to you." Artorigus said, his voice shaking with nervousness as he stared at the lifeless corpse of the former High General.

"Excellent. Now, deploy the city guard to corral the anarchists outside the gates. Make sure all military installations are locked down. Put every protocol into effect that you must to retain order in the city." Swain said, adjusting his sight to "Mountain" who was standing himself up, tossing his braided black hair behind him and staring down on his victim. "And Mountain, you have until the end of the year to make Katarina Du Couteau disappear. Disposing of her betrothed is optional, but highly recommended."

Mountain blinked a single eye, turning his head to the man who had hired him. This man's face was rugged, damaged, with half of it scarred by cuts and singes and left eye bolted shut by three steel rings. His crimson irises shined in the relative darkness of the corridor he, Swain and Darkwill had came down moments earlier. A evil smile spanned the lips of Mountain, taking a deep breath before hiding his knife in his belt and nodding to Swain.

"Yes." Was all he said, turning his back to the assembly of High Command officers and the newly crowned High General of Noxus.

* * *

Swain is in a position of power, Mountain is out for blood, Jarvan and Katarina's wedding is soon. Oh boy, this'll be fun to write. Stay tuned, I'll try to get some more chapters out when I feel like I'm able to write.


	15. Intermission Chapter

Hey everyone. This entire chapter is dedicated to giving everyone a status update on what's going on in my life, and why there has been a lack of updates as of late. It's a rather long story, but I'd really appreciate if some of my followers and favoriters would sit through this chapter to try to get a better understanding of what's going on.

Alright, let's start at the beginning: last year, a few weeks before Christmas. I'm a property owner—I purchase, renovate and rent homes that I think I could turn a profit on. Everything with this has running smooth since I started renting homes out, never really had a problem. That was, until recently, when all that turned to hell.

* * *

I had some tenants who would claim the rent is ready, so of course I'd go up to collect, and then like magic there is no money for me to collect. I'm a generous man, and these people were my friends, so I started giving them a bit of slack on paying there rent. Boy oh boy did I make a mistake. Fast forward to the date mentioned above, still no rent for a few months, and I was really barely scraping by at this point. I work two jobs, I'm on call during the night, and what free time I get is dedicated to the care and improvement of my home and my properties. Naturally, this requires a bit of capital, capital which I no longer had because these tenants were not paying their rent.

Now, on to the juicy parts. A week before Christmas, I'd had enough. I gave them a notice the morning of December 17th stating that if they did not pay this months rent, as well as the months they missed WITH all late fees applicable, they would be evicted. They heeded this warning, but in different ways than one would imagine. They started a slander campaign of sorts on Facebook, saying all sorts of things. This didn't faze me, as I no longer cared about what they said, but it really started mattering when I attempted to come up and collect rent for the last time the evening of December 19th.

As I go up to the house and ask politely where the rent was, as I was told by the lease signer's husband that it was ready—all fees included—and that I should come collect it. Then, I got the biggest kick in the nuts of that year. I was told that it wasn't ready, and that her husband lied to me, and said it rather plainly as if nothing was the matter. At this point, I'd had enough of this shit, so I sit in their driveway and make a phone call to the husband, expecting a straight answer from him about why the hell there was no rent ready. Before I know it, I'm yelling at this guy and in pulls a county police car. The tenant had reported I was assaulting her in some way, and thus called the police. I was arrested, but released an hour later when they realized she was full of shit.

A day later, I was informed she was taking a restraining order out on me in a feeble attempt to keep me from collecting rent. Per this order, I was not allowed to go near her or her family. That meant unless I were to infringe on the order and get arrested (again) trying to collect rent, I had no way of doing aforementioned collecting. And thus the process of eviction began.

In the interest of time, we shall jump a few months to February when I was actually able to evict them. In this same month, I was also appointed a date for a hearing in civil court to decide whether the restraining order would stay or not. This hearing was an absolute clusterfuck of belying words and a judge who clearly knew her time was being wasted. I presented a case which she knew to be truth, as the story given by the tenants would only be believed by the dumbest sod out there. That's one hearing down, and now I'm off to Magistrate court to settle this eviction.

This Magistrate court hearing was no different from the civil court hearing. The same shindig, just a different court. I don't feel comfortable publicly shaming these people, so I won't put up some of the stupid, hateful things they've said about me on Facebook, or the imbecilic statements made in both courtrooms.

After the Magistrate (and civil) judge ruled in my favor, the restraining order was dropped and the tenants were given ten days to move out or be evicted with the assistance of the police. Papers were served and many arguments and slandering occurred over Facebook, but the day finally came when they were evicted by force. The police knocked on the door as I stood outside, watching as they were ordered to gather their things and leave. I had the snidest smile on my face, and I'm proud of it. I show no quarter for tenants who fail to keep their end of the bargain.

Alright, let's go over things. It's been a two month process just to get them out of the house and settle all the court hearings. I still haven't been inside the house, I have no idea what to expect when I go in there and inspect what's been going on inside that nest of vile crows. When I go in there, I nearly cry at what I see. There were holes in the Sheetrock big enough for the toe of my boot, as well as some higher ones where I could easily fit my fist in. I said to myself, "Fuck me", as I began smelling something putrid coming from the carpet in the living room. I figure this couldn't get much worse, so I get on my knees and smell the wool carpet, jerking my body back up as the extremely potent stench of canine urine mixed with some other stuff I simply couldn't stand to decipher.

That was pretty much the worst part of it. There was garbage strewn around the place, bags and mounds as if they were leaving a present for me. I continued my inspection, noticing the blades of every fan in every room was either broken in a place or missing entirely. The paint was chipped and stained in a few places in nearly every room. The bathroom was an absolute wreck—it's truly hard to do justice to just how trashed this place was.

I didn't spend any time mourning this property. The next day, I had a dumpster delivered, hired painters, strapped on a mask and got to cleaning the place up. The dumpster was nearly filled to the brim as I cleaned out the house. Next came the carpet, which I ripped up in a few hours and chucked into that dumpster as well. Things are going pretty well. I buy new carpet and have the tile in the bathroom and day-room ripped up and replaced with newer tile as well. The painters come and all the walls get repainted as well as the bathroom being resurfaced as well. All is well with the world. Until, once we get through all that, I bring my construction trailer up and start working on the small stuff.

It was alright for about a week until one morning, when I got up there with my electrician's kit and get to work installing some new ceiling fans I'd bought the day earlier, I find the gate of my construction trailer down. I know for damn certain I closed and locked it the night before, so I immediately start panicking. I find the locks keeping it closed had been cut and the trailed completely cleaned out. Nothing remained. I had two air compressors, a Skil saw, a bench saw, a pressure washer, innumerable hand tools as well as drill bit kits. The hand tools were all about ~a year old, as was the pressure washer, so it was heartbreaking to tally up all that I lost. The value was incredible, but I had no choice but to buy them all again and continue working.

Everything was pretty smooth for about a month, until I was, once again, going up to work and found that the back door had been kicked in and somebody had entered the house. Of course, the house was vacant and all the rooms were empty, so the burglars got nothing. I boarded up the windows and posted up 'Do Not Trespass' signs all around the property, like I was expecting that to stop somebody.

Now, most recently (yesterday) I was stolen from once more, but not the same as the first time. With this most recent occurrence, I found that my construction dumpster had been picked over and all copper/scrap metal was taken from it. When I went to check my large garage that stands apart from my home and see if my scrap pile had been picked over as well, I did, in fact, find it was picked over and stolen.

So here I am now, sitting up in my room after doing tax paperwork all day, on my day off mind you, and trying to get everyone to understand that I'm going to be bringing new content, my life is just really hellish now. And I have some new stuff that I'll be bringing out, including a new story that I'll start when this one concludes. Or, depending on your opinion, I may write a sequel to this one.

Please forgive me, I'm doing everything in my power to make time at the moment, but it's not been enough. Rest assured, this is most definitely not the end. Thank you very much to everyone who has read all the way through. If you have feedback, please, feel free to send it in! You can contact me at mrrozak03 or here, on my Reddit account, which would be /u/MrRozak.


End file.
